Waking the Ghost
by Piratess-Bell
Summary: Previously the Forgotten Angel. She never thought she'd get another chance, but a twist of fate brings her into a story that will wake the ghosts of her past, and forever change her future.
1. Dark Remembrance

This fanfiction is going out to Aquatic Cylipso for being the _best_ and convincing me to submit this story.

Alrighty, as many may have prognosticated, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of it's amazing characters, I also do not own the Jack Sparrow books or any of it's characters, please do not sue me, this is non-profit and just for fun.

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The sun slowly descended farther and farther below the horizon and out of the mortal world. The calls of seafowl echoed over the docks and the sailors working upon them. Things were peaceful, calm, serene and quiet, the crisp, cool night air beginning to help the sailors realize how tired they were hushed the seamen until the only sounds left were the lapping of the waves, the call of the birds and the creak of the pier.

The ominous silence rang in their ears until one anxious voice called out a name that left everyone with something to say. The normal chaos erupted on the wharf and the source of the voice scrambled through the now restless crowd. He tried his hardest to work his way around without falling into the dirty bay water. He passed many people, all either laughing at stories about the person, or growling at memories of the colorful character desperately searching for. All, it seemed, knew and responded to this name. This made the seeker, now searching through the rowdy crowd irate that no one would help him. They were too busy laughing or scowling. Everyone.

At that moment, the source of the voice and all the commotion came upon the one exception to the rule.

A woman sat on a barrel, her auburn hair flying free in the chilly night air. Her clothes were plain, a brown dress and a belt that hung loosely around her hips. Her face startled the seeker so much he stopped short. She did not laugh, nor did she smile at all, but neither did she scowl with anger at the name. On her face was pain.

Her brown eyes seemed focused on something distant and invisible. Her eyes wide and her pupils focused on nothing, she stared ahead. Her eyebrows knit together as if she was trying desperately to remember something and she was not succeeding. Her pretty, natural-colored lips formed a straight line of concentration. She looked ghostly, hollow, empty…and beautiful.

He approached her on instinct and before he knew it he was right beside her. "Hello," he greeted her.

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. "Oh," she recognized, ending her reverie. "Hello."

"I was wondering, do you know where I could find Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl? I really need to find him…" the seeker explained.

The woman recognized his voice as the one who had called out the Captain of the Black Pearl's name only moments before. "What's your name, lad?" the woman asked.

"William…Will Turner," he answered, slowly, cautiously. Why did she want to know?

"Ah, William," she said. "Why do you seek…Captain Sparrow?"

"Do you know where he is or not?" Will asked impatiently, losing interest.

"In truth, I do not," she confessed. "But, we share a common goal."

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"I seek Captain Sparrow as well," she answered.

"You do? Why?" Will was curious to know.

The woman's face returned to the same empty, ghostly expression in which Will had discovered her. "You have a ship?" she asked.

"No, actually," Will confessed.

"I can take you with me on my ship if you can provide us with where to look."

"All right," Will agreed. "We should begin our search in Tortuga."

The woman looked dreamily out to sea with the expression of empty remembrance Will had seen thrice. "Meet me at the boat at _dusk _in _three nights' time,_" the woman instructed, a strange darkness laced into her ordinary directions.

Will left his suspicion aside for later contemplation and answered her, "I'm done in town. I've nowhere to sleep. Shall we board you're ship tonight?"

"Fine. Follow me," she eased off of the barrel and down a wharf to a large and beautifully well-taken care of ship. On the hull the name _Fleur de la Morte _was inscribed in fancy script.

"The _Fleur de la Morte? _Is that French?" Will asked.

"Why, yes it is," the woman answered, cautiously.

Will didn't take her guarded tone as the unusual, and the woman was glad he did not question her further about the name inscribed in her ship. "So you are…the Captain's wife?" Will asked.

"No, this ship is mine. I am Captain," she explained.

"A female Captain," he pondered quietly. She ignored him.

"Captain Smith, if you please, William Turner," Captain Smith introduced herself.

"Aye, aye, Captain Smith," Will answered.


	2. Politely

Chapter Two

Politely

Mornings in Port Royal are often quiet, peaceful times for sailors, just blinking their eyes to take in the sunshine; to relax before the work begins. To appreciate the gentle, salty breeze, the beautiful, crystal blue water rhythmically patting the sides of the ships. The _Fleur de la Morte_ was no exception.

The rowdy crew reminded Will of the _Black Pearl, _the ship he needed to find to save Elizabeth and himself from eternal condemnation. He sorely and desperately hoped that this Captain Smith could help him. She was far too mysterious and cryptic for Will's liking. And, far too untrusting… she asked too many questions and didn't answer quite enough. What could she be hiding?

All this Will pondered in his cabin aboard the _Fleur_. Until, a rap came to his door. Then, again. "Come on in," Will said, loudly.

Captain Smith entered the cabin, her expression staid as she closed the door behind her. "Mr. Turner," she addressed him, properly. "I just came down to check on ye… I assume your night was satisfactory?"

"Just fine," Will answered, politely and honestly.

"Good, good. I'd also like to inform you that we set sail for Tortuga in about an hour."

"Aye, aye," Will said.

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The orange sun had just dipped below the horizon when the Fleur and her crew pulled into Tortuga. The shouts, laughter, and random gunshots of the pirate port became audible to the crew. As per Captain Smith's request to split up and cover faster, Will cautiously toddled around Tortuga, asking for a one Captain Jack Sparrow as he did in Port Royal. Finally, he came to two somewhat familiar looking women, one with bleached-blonde hair, the other with fiery scarlet curls. He decided they looked promising enough, and asked, "Excuse me, ladies. Do you know where I could find Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Jack Sparrow," the blonde glanced at the redhead.

"Haven't seen him in a month," the redhead returned the blonde's glance.

"When you find him, will you give him a message?" the blonde took a step towards Will. _WHAP_. Will suddenly remembered why they seemed familiar. He rubbed his slapped cheek and continued his search for Captain Jack Sparrow.

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AN: I know this chapter is short.. I'm suffering from writer's block _already._ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the second chapter. Reviews are welcomed, I don't mind flames, though I prefer _constructive_ critisism.

Disclaimers: All characters belong to Disney. Diologue from the second part taken from Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Please no sue-age, I'm not a plumber, I'm an author.


	3. Getting Lucky

Chapter Three

Getting Lucky

After the unhelpful evening of searching the streets of Tortuga, the Fleur began to make its way from island to island, interviewing all too many unhelpful people, without even a slightest notion of where the Black Pearl and it's notorious captain had escaped to… until finally one day, Will got very lucky.

He had slept in that morning, The Captain and the charismatic first mate, Mr. Reece, had taken off early that morning to restock on supplies in the port town, leaving Will to sleep for an extra hour or two, but when he woke from another terrible dream of Elizabeth in that dank and dreary jail cell back in Port Royal, he was ready to go out and look for Jack, it was the only thing that he could do to save her.

He stepped off the ship, wondering where the Captain had gone, when he walked by a black man with dreadlocks who was busily repairing a net. Will, with no other place to start, turned to him, and asked, for the umpteenth time, "You wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of a certain Captain Jack Sparrow, would you?" he asked, attempting hopefulness, but only achieving a gratitude to the man for looking up.

"Cannot say about Jack Sparrow." The faint hope in Will's heart was sighing, but nothing Will hadn't come to expect. He was surprised when the man continued… "But there's an island just south of the straits where I trade spice for delicious lum pork. Cannot say about Jack. But you'll find a ship there, a ship with black sails."

Will's eyes widened with excitement. He'd found Jack! Well, if not Jack, the Pearl at least! He had to find Captain Smith! She would need to know this news immediately. "Can you lead me to it?" Will asked the man.

"We will be traveling near there on our ship. We will sail tomorrow. We could take you aboard." The man offered graciously.

Will was struck with a momentary quandary. Captain Smith would not wish to leave her ship. "Perhaps our vessel could follow yours to this island?" Will asked tentatively.

"Fine, I will speak to you tomorrow morning." The man went back to this net weaving. Will ran down the dock to the town to find his Captain and tell her the good news.

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Author's Note: Due to the strong urgings of my dear friend and fellow Sparrabella writer, nineteennintytwo, this story has been resurrected! Yay! Well, um, I'm probably going to be updating this one quickly, but who knows with me? Lol. I'm in a weird writers block thing, but that's okay, this is a little more guided than most things. Haha. Well, anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Hopefully more soon!

Disclaimers: I don't own some of the diologue... the characters Will, the dreadlock guy, Arabella, Mr. Reece or Jack Sparrow! Do not sue me, please!

Please review!  
-Piratess-Bell


	4. A Familiar Face

Chapter Four

A Familiar Face

It was the following afternoon when the Fleur de la Morte finally reached the island the shrimping boat had led them to. The island was of moderate size, with a vast mess of rain forest sprawling over the land except on a thin white skirt of sandy beach. The majestic Black Pearl was ungracefully leaning to its side like great whale on the sand. Will reported their arrival to the Captain, who had previously recognized the large galleon, but was delayed in giving orders while she examined the ship through her spyglass. She shut the device, and gave a long look at the beach.

Will, patiently waiting for orders, stood by her side. "Tell Mr. Reece to drop anchor and make ready the boats," she finally commanded.

Will first looked back at the Black Pearl lying on the beach. "Why is she on the beach rather than anchored?" he read Captain Smith's intent staring to be the same question that kept pestering him as well. Why would Jack have brought the Pearl onto the beach instead of anchoring her out on the water? Will could see even from this distance that the hull was still covered by a layer of barnacles. The Pearl's crew had clearly not been streamlining the hull in the time the crew was sojourning on the isle. In fact, where was the crew? Jack typically left at least a few men to guard his precious ship ever since Barbossa first mutinied on him.

"I don't know, Mr. Turner." She kept her eyes focused on the distant point of interest, steely and strong, her lips only parted for a moment, taking no attention from the Black Pearl. Her voice was soft, but firmly proper. It was sad sounding, Will thought, as he walked over to pass the orders to the first mate.

Not long after, a few of the Fleur's crewmembers, selected by Mr. Reece, who would stay aboard as temporary Captain, Will, and the Captain were rowing a small dingy to the coast. The men chatted idly, but Captain Smith kept silent, sullying Will to a similar respectful quiet.

They reached the beach, bringing the boat up beside the grand Pearl. Will surveyed the surrounding area, spotting a hopeful sight. "Ah, a familiar face!" Will said, walking up to the parrot. "Captain, this is the parrot of Mr. Cotton, one Jack's crew members. If Cotton is here, I'm sure Jack must be."

"That is certainly good news, William," Smith grinned. "Does this parrot speak?" she asked, sociably.

"Yes, typically we can't shut him up. Cotton's a mute, so the parrot speaks for him, but mostly just to talk." Will laughed lightly, before smiling and addressing the bird, "What do you have to say, Cottony?"

"Don't eat me! Don't eat me!" the bird cawed. The Captain gave Will a foreboding glance when he turned, throwing her an apologetically confused face. He wasn't used to hearing that from the bird. He tried a hollow laugh. "I'm not going to eat you," Will assured the nervous parrot before taking his first step into the jungle.

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Author's Note: Hey, a quick review! Sorry everyone, I would have written more, but I was dragged off to the water park today for a day of slides, lazy rivers, wave pools and chirros! Figures, you get inspired and they want to take you to the water park! Oh well. I got this chapter out for you today, perhaps another, I'm on a roll, but if not, so sorry, maybe tomorrow! Heehee.

Disclaimers: I do not own Will, Miss Captain Smith, Mr. Reece, Cotton's Parrot, Some of the Diologue, the Black Pearl, the Fleur de la Morte, and various other things belonging to Disney and Pirates of the Caribbean! So sorry, but perhaps you will come to forgive me?

Please review!  
-Piratess-Bell


	5. Meeting

Chapter Five

Meeting

The group had barely taken a few steps into the brush, when the growth was so dense that the sun was nearly blocked out by the green canopy above their heads. Will lead them, for reasons unknown to him, he didn't know any more about where they were going that the rest of them. He thought about the possible reasons for him to be leading, when he came across another familiarity.

"Gibbs," Will murmured, taking the leather rum flask into his hands, memory guiding his fingers around the smooth surface. "They've been here," announced Will.

"Good," the Captain commented, "We are on the right track." She took another step forward to stand next to Will. He was examining the trail of twine that was attached to the flask, and draped through the low branches. Will and Captain Smith followed this trail, stepping slowly until the trail suddenly ended. Will looked at the end, pondering the purpose of such a short string trail, when behind him, becoming visible suddenly after jumping out from a tree, there was a savage looking man painted to look like the tree he stood against.

Will jumped in alarm, stepping unfortunately into the trap that would bring him to hang by his foot upside down, while savage cannibals approached the still upright Captain and scant party of crewmembers on the ground. Captain Smith remarkably instantly had her sword unsheathed, she had engaged two cannibals on her side, her crewmembers were holding their own, but the cannibals surrounding Will certainly had an advantage on him. He swiped at them all with his swinging sword, but eventually one hit him in the neck with a sleeping dart that caused him to drop his sword on the rainforest floor. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was Captain Smith calling out his name.

She stabbed the cannibal she was fighting and hastened to Will's side. She defended his position from all sides, but systematically, all of her crewmembers were hit with the same sleeping darts. At last, with the cannibals seemingly out of sleeping darts, a reinforcing group of a dozen or so cannibals came to bind Captain Smith's hands and drag her along with the unconscious bodies of her crewmembers.

All while they forced her along, Captain Smith fumed. She hated losing, and she especially hated losing to men in skirts. As her crewmates woke, she pronounced, "I kept me wits about me, ye sniveling lot of schoolgirls. Learn to fight or ye'll be paying for it." Will, who had only awoken, laughed a bit. As it seemed, the Captain wasn't so proper when she was angry. She sounded just like every other drawling pirate with her pronunciation of 'you' and using 'me' instead of 'my.' He was sort of impressed with the Captain for her own swordsmanship. Will wished he could have addressed a fight back there, but, perhaps one where, you know, he wasn't upside-down. Will sorely realized he didn't even have his sword anymore and that he must have dropped it when they were ambushed. He sighed inwardly. This would be fun to get out of.

The group approached a clearing, by this point with very sore wrists, except for the Captain, who they, for unknown reasons, allowed to walk. Probably, Will guessed, she wouldn't allow them to tie her to one. Even with her hands bound, she still looked pretty dangerous.

"Kali kali ten dada," the cannibal blubbered when they reached the clearing. A thin smirk spread over the Captain's face, but this expression made her eyes smile, Will noticed. All other expressions of hers had never touched her subtle eyes. As it was, the Captain was the one who realized it first, but slowly, Will too recognized the painted face of the sought after one. The one Captain Jack Sparrow they had been seeking.

"Jack?" Will asked, squinting at his friend. "Jack Sparrow?" Will laughed, letting the happiness spread a large smile on his face. "I can honestly say I'm glad to see you!"

"We both are," Captain Smith interjected, primly, the crooked grin growing larger.

Jack's eyes danced for a moment over the Captain, seemingly in disbelief, but he continued to saunter slowly over to Will, wiping all recognition from his eyes, replaced with indifference, as he decided to poke Will on the arm. Will looked at Jack with a confused, and subtly disappointed face. Why wasn't Jack letting them out? Didn't he recognize them?

"Jack, don't you recognize us?" Will desperately called out.

"Pase ko." Jack casually addressed some cannibal standing near Will's feet. Will turned to look at the Captain whose expression had changed to unwilling acceptance. As if she understood something Will did not.

The cannibal man responded, "Idada, esipige." Following, the cannibal group muttered "Esipige."

"Tell them to let me down!" Will tried again, desperately.

"It's all right, William," the Captain reassured him.

"What are you talking about?" Will asked, dubiously. Jack's eyes were silently surveying them.

"He can't help." She said simply. Jack looked for a moment, thankfully. Will wondered how they knew each other in the first place.

Jack's apathetic public opinion of them was restored as he addressed his cannibal minions. "Bon liki liki," he said simply, before turning back to his bony cannibal throne. The cannibals took them away again to another unknown place; Will turned to the Captain sadly and in his eyes was the question of what she meant, but all she said with hers was, "I'm sorry."

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Author's Note: Yay! I got another chapter up! Okay... well, technically I guess this is updated tomorrow..., but whatever! It's here! And, yay! It's a long one! This was really fun to write. I wish I didn't have to go to sleep before writing the next one! Oh well, I'll wake again soon enough! Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I know I did haha.

Disclaimers: I don't own Jack, Will, Bell, the Cannibals, Some of the Diologue, or Gibbs! So sad. Oh well! That's why we have Disney right?

Please Review!  
-Piratess-Bell


	6. Chief and Prisoner

Chapter Six

Chief and Prisoner

The cannibals had transferred the party into two spherical bone cages, where some of the members of Jack's crew were imprisoned. Will and the Captain ended up in a cage with Mr. Gibbs, Jack's first mate, along with some other familiar faces, like Cotton and Marty. Will's mind was still plaguing him with the unanswered aspect of their situation. It didn't take long for him to ask, "Why would Jack do this to us… if he's chief?"

The Captain turned to Will, but it was Gibbs who spoke. "Aye, the Pelegostas made Jack their chief, but he only remains chief so long as he acts like a chief."

The Captain nodded, as if to say that was what she was trying to tell him. Realization dawning on Will, he said, "So, he had no choice. He's a captive then as much as the rest of us."

"Understanding cannibals like these, Will, he probably has it worse," the Captain explained, grimly.

"Aye," Gibbs agreed. "See, they believe Jack is a god in human form… and they intend to do him the honor of releasing him from his fleshy prison." Cotton bit Gibbs' hand causing him to gasp. He pulled his hand away and continued. "They'll roast him and eat him." Gibbs finished, the meaning reverberating in their collective minds.

Will was next to speak, "Where's the rest of the crew?"

The Captain cringed a bit, before Gibbs explained vaguely, "These cages we're in… weren't built until after we got here." Will disgustedly pulled his hands away from the cage bars, the mystery of what happened to the remainder of Jack's crew solved in a particularly gruesome way.

"By the sound of those drums, Jack doesn't have much time," Smith whispered. Her eyes turned downward, Will idly wondered what she needed Jack for.

"Jack's life will end when those drums stop." Gibbs morbidly announced. The crew had a seemingly reverent moment of silence.

Will interjected, not quite out of hope just yet, "Well, we can't just sit here and wait then, can we?" Will smiled. "I have an idea."

"Well, go on then," Gibbs supported, curious of any means of escape.

A wry smile spread across the Captain's lips. "Yes, Mr. Turner, what is your plan of action?"

"The side isn't too far, is it? If we all lean together, perhaps we could grab on to the side. It looks like there are vines on the rock wall; we could use them to climb up. We could all escape and maybe even save Jack before the drums stop."

"Good plan, Turner," Gibbs commented, preparing to lean to the side.

"One, two, three!" Will said, guiding all those inside to lean in unison. Will grinned. Things were once again looking up.

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Author's Note: Yes, another chapter! Woo! Gotta love it. More hopefully very soon. I'm gonna keep working, all I ask is a review or two!

Disclaimers: I don't own... well anything really. But isn't that sort of expected by now?

-Piratess-Bell


	7. Karma Aids the Captain

Chapter Seven

Karma Aids the Captain

The screams of the crewmen finally turn to shouts of joy when the two bone cages finally manage to keep tethered to the overgrown rock wall. "Put your legs through! Start to climb!" Gibbs instructed.

"It will take all of us to crew the Black Pearl," Will said, happy his plan was working, hoping to motivate the troops.

Unfortunately, Leech, the semi-treacherous, dark-skinned, Indian man, broke in at this point to point out that they wouldn't need them all, and that "about six would do."

The caged pirates stared intently back at each other. It was then, in that tense silence, that Captain Smith realized something.

"The… the drums have stopped." Her voice was slightly stammering. Will recognized the same empty, ghostly face as he first found her with. Her breath was shallow. Will felt a low blow in his own gut, just a lesser mirror of the Captain's own pain, Will was sure, but altogether painful, as the crew of assorted pirates recognized their own captainlessness.

"Oh dear," Leech said, forebodingly. The bone cages would have to race to the ship in order to be the winner, the new captain of the Pearl, Will realized. Ugh, pirates, he thought, so ready to betray each other. No sense of loyalty at all. But, still, Will bargained, his team would have to win.

"Hurry!" Will urged, brown eyes flashing with excitement. The crewmembers shouted with rousing encouragements, so much that it took them a moment to realize the Captain was even speaking.

"Would ye all _shut_ yer bloody _traps_?" she screeched suddenly. The crew looked at her with confusion, when she, as the Pope presiding over schoolboys, simply pointed her single finger up at the approaching cannibal man whose attention had miraculously not yet been caught by their loud competition.

"Stop! Shhhh!" the men in the Captain's cage warned the others, too scared to do anything else, while standing in the frightening woman's shadow.

Leech, the bloodsucking little parasite he was, stared haughtily into the Captain's steely gaze as he gestured to the men in his cage to continue advancing up the canyon side. Gibbs widened his eyes and shook his head in frustration as he realized they would be left behind when the other cage made it to the Pearl first. But it wasn't long until Leech, receiving his coming karmatic justice, grabbed a snake and, with the whole lot of dirty pirates screaming, all fell to their deaths at the bottom of the canyon.

The Captain, innocently blinking, though dripping with smugness, stated inoffensively, "Now, boys, we've let them know we're here, would ye like to keep going, or just wait for them to come and kill us?"

The boys, truly as they looked up at her childishly for orders after the shock of the death of half of the remaining crew from as simple a thing as grabbing a snake from the cliff's edge, continued up the side obediently. It was then that Will understood how such a woman could be captain.

--

Author's Note: Yeah! Another chapter! Lol, well she has to take after Laura in some way. ;)

Disclaimers: I don't own Leech, Bell, Will, Gibbs, Jack, The Cannibals, Some of the Lines, and other such Disney owned things! Don't sue, please. :]

-Piratess-Bell


	8. Escape

Chapter Eight

Escape

With much effort and another few shouts from everyone, the surviving bone cage rolled its laborious way over the edge of the cliff on to the comforting horizontality of the solid ground. Unfortunately for those inside, there was no time to celebrate their own success, because on their tails were more cannibal savages than they had ever seen. Of course, all of them running towards the caged pirates, with various sharp weapons that they would all too hastily meet if they did not get going, now.

Which, they did. "Roll the cage!" ordered Will, fear in his eyes. Unfortunately, the cage-rolling plan was really more of a good theoretical plan than helpful to be used in actual practice. The pirates clumsily clung to the side of the cage with no way of controlling the path of the cage and the surviving group now dizzy. They even rolled up a standing palm tree on their dangerous rolling course.

The cage had now even stopped rolling completely. "That was fantastic, Will, any more ideas?" The Captain asked sarcastically.

Will just shouted, "Lift the cage!" Adding "Hurry!" when he realized how quickly the pursuers where overtaking them.

Frantically Gibbs added, "Come on, lads! Lift it like a lady's skirt!" The Captain gave Gibbs a "really?" look. He shook his head apologetically, but they both knew now was not the time for banter, they lifted the cage above their feet, yes, Gibbs, like a lady's skirt, and it worked a bit more effectively, except they couldn't go as fast, and poor Marty wasn't having the best time.

Another problem? They couldn't see to far ahead of them. Proof? They ran right off a cliff. Thankfully, the water at the bottom saved their lives, and even broke apart the blasted cage. It was too bad that the mob of natives were immediately pelting them with arrows and spears. They swam as fast as they could to a crevice where they could hide from the villagers. After a moment, the enemies retreated, realizing the futility of shooting at them from their standpoint. The pirates relaxed after a moment.

"That was fun," the Captain commented with a submissive tilt of her soaked ringlets of hair. She continued to suggest, "What say ye we make a hasty retreat back to the ship?"

"Aye," said Gibbs resignedly, wondering who in Davy Jones' locker this lass was, and where she could scrape up the energy to be quirky after such a chase. The group easily followed the river to get back to the beach, running all the while to not be followed by the cannibals again.

They reached the Black Pearl in time to see the fumbling Pintel and Ragetti untying the lines and making ready the beached ship to sail. The Captain looked on this curiously. "The first time I think I'll reward ship-stealers. This is a pretty good deal." She smirked.

"Excellent! Our work's half done!" Gibbs realized, clapping Pintel on the back.

Pintel, humorously trying to turn the situation around, replied, "We done it for you! Knowing you be coming back for it!" The Captain rolled her eyes as Gibbs took charge.

"Make ready to sail, boys!" called Gibbs, looking over the ship.

Will interjected, "What about Jack? I won't leave without him."

The Captain stood next to him, "We could give him a moment at least," she argued.

Gibbs shrugged. He wanted to wait, but Jack was probably already dead, and he definitely didn't want to suffer the same fate by those cannibals. It was then that they saw the tiny silhouette of a running Captain Jack Sparrow bolting down the beach. The Captain and Will exchanged a pleased smile… Until, of course, they realized, the group right behind him, and quickly overtaking him. "Time to go!" Will said, dismissively.

The Captain looked back at the pirates with disgust. "_Pirates_," she muttered. She looked back at Jack, running with a panic down the sandy shore, his ridiculous screams echoing down the shore. She gave him a sad smile, before turning and boarding the escaping ship.

"Cast off those lines!" called Gibbs. After all but Jack had boarded, the ship was making its way out into open water. "Make ready to cast off!"

Luckily, Jack reached the Pearl fast enough to grab the rigging on the side and secure his place on his ship. Content with his escape, and just theatrical as he was, he called back to his followers, mourning his departure, by saying, "Alas, my children, this is the day you shall always remember as the day you almost…" It was then that an unknown wave crashed onto the unsuspecting Jack, who, disappointed, ending his speech in a mutter, "…Captain Jack Sparrow."

The Captain just smiled.

--

Author's Note: Yay! Another chapter done! They made it off the island, but what to do with the Fleur? We shall see, we shall see...

Disclaimers: I don't own nothing! Wait... that's a double negative...

-Piratess-Bell


	9. Will's Motives

Chapter Nine

Will's Motives

Jack casually climbed up the steps and over the rail to board his ship, slightly fatigued, but otherwise unphased by the outlandish events that had just transpired. He was almost immediately accosted by his first mate upon reaching the deck. Gibbs, who as well, seemed a bit tired by the affair, quickly suggested to his Captain, "Let's put some distance between us and this island and head out to open sea."

Jack mulled this over for a moment, before responding briefly, "Yes to the first, yes, to the second, but only insofar as we keep to the shallows as much as possible." Pintel and Ragetti put Jack's coat over his shoulders. Jack turned and looked at them quizzically, wondering when he allowed these two miscreants back upon his ship.

Gibbs seemed a bit off-put. "That seems a bit contradictory, Captain," he pointed out.

Jack didn't feel like explaining, he simply said, "I have every faith in your reconciliatory navigational skills, Master Gibbs." Adding with an annoyed growl, "Now, where is that monkey? I want to shoot _some_thing." The deplorable screechings of the monkey could be heard about and Jack readied his pistol, when the next to confront Jack was the young Mr. Turner.

"Jack. Elizabeth is in danger." He informed him, in that very Will-like fashion of assuming one should be surprised by something so mundane as Elizabeth being in danger.

"Have you ever considered keeping a more watchful eye on her?" Jack asked, wondering when Will would learn to expect such occurrences when Elizabeth was around. "Maybe just lock her up somewhere," Jack suggested, he could think of little else that would keep that girl _out _of danger.

Will grew angry with this. "She _is _locked up. In a prison! Bound to hang for helping you!" Will shouted accusingly.

Jack now understood why Will was here, but he wasn't particularly interested in helping him. Jack ironically pointed out, "There comes a time when one must take responsibility for one's mistakes."

Will stole a stand-by crewmember's sword, pointing it threateningly at Jack. Jack innerly sighed. He felt this was coming, Will was always too passionate and dramatic. A voice cut in here, to say, "Oh, Mr. Turner, no need to be so hostile." A very old friend stood in front of Jack. She was still so much like he remembered though.

"I need Jack's compass to free my fiancée" Will explained. His eyes were intense when he lowered his voice to add, "Captain Smith, this is none of your business."

"I brought ye here, didn't I?" she said, no interest in his pitiful plight. "I think that involves me well enough," she fought. Will narrowed his eyes, but relented. 'Captain Smith' turned to Jack a smirk on her lips.

"Captain Smith?" he asked. "Wasn't that yer mum?"

"Tradition," she shrugged.

Before Jack could say anything else, Will cut in. As it seemed, he never quite gives up. "Jack, we need to sail for Port Royal immediately. Elizabeth's death will be on your hands."

Jack let out an aggravated breath. "Mr. Gibbs," he said.

"Captain?" Gibbs replied, standing at the helm.

"We have a need to travel upriver," Jack said, cryptically. Captain Smith, who still stood by Jack, raised a suspicious eyebrow. Gibbs looked alarmed.

"You mean a need, as in a trifling need, fleeting, as in say a passing fancy?" Gibbs asked, hopefully.

"No," Jack shattered Gibbs' hopes, slowly describing, "A resolute and unyielding need."

The Captain was busy interrogating Jack with her eyes to restrain Will for a second time. Will again jumped the chance to demand his wishes. "I need that compass, Jack. You need to take me to Port Royal to free her," Will demanded, firmly.

"William," Jack began, democratically. "I shall trade you the compass, if you help me to find this." Jack pulls out a cloth, seemingly a cut out piece of sail canvas, with a small charcoal drawing of a key etched upon it.

Will looked down on it, intrigued by Jack's newest venture. "You want me to find this?" he asked simply.

"No," Jack said, the gears turning inside his head, "_you _want you to find this. Because, the finding of this, finds you incapacitorially finding and or locating in your discovering the detecting of a way to free your dolly belle, ol' whatserface. Savvy?" Jack finished, confusingly, but yet in a way that satisfied Will.

"This is going to save Elizabeth," Will paraphrased as best he could.

Jack leaned in, hushing the conversation to an air of secrecy. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"

Will admitted, slowly, "Not much."

"Yeah," Jack finished, standing straight again. "It's gonna save Elizabeth."

--

Author's Note: Yay, another chapter! Sorry everyone. I was out shopping today! It was fun, but I missed writing more of this story! Heehee, it's very addictive. A little warning, I probably won't be updating for a couple of days, my cousin (and best friend) who also just happens to be obsessed with Pirates of the Caribbean, is coming so I'll be a little busy. But hey, maybe this'll hold you over!

I wasn't quite sure how to intergrate Bell into this scene. It's really really quick but really important at the same time. There's a lot of important lines and stuff that have to be said before I can breeze her into it. Oh well! Tell how you thought I did. I'm sort of happy with it, but not extremely. I could definitely come back and edit this entrance.

Disclaimers: I don't own many of the lines, any of the characters, or prettymuch anything else! Too bad, but please don't sue!

Please tell me how I did with this chapter... I'm not sure about it.  
-Piratess-Bell


	10. Maybe

Chapter Ten

Maybe

There were stories, dark whispers from desperate lips, of the woman Captain Smith was nearly certain Jack meant to search out. They said she took refuge hidden in the layers of untamable growth the Pantano River provided for her; in a small shack she would cast her spells, her rites and incantations cursing the unlucky. Her omniscience was unwavering, she knew everything there was to be known about you, before you stepped into her rickety shack. But Captain Smith knew better than to be frightened by such superstitions… she was probably just some riverside fortuneteller with a gift for guesses. No, what she really wanted to know was why Captain Jack Sparrow so desperately needed to see this mystic woman.

With Captain Smith back rightly captaining her ship, the Fleur de la Morte, the time passed swiftly, typically, for her ship, but with a new focus. She was distracted. Taken to mulling the nagging question of Jack Sparrow's problems over and over in her head, like a rough stone in the surf of a beach, sooner or later, she reasoned, she would come to some sort of resolution. Mr. Reece had caught on quickly; he was standing at his place beside her at the helm when he finally spoke his suspicions.

"Captain," he began in his important tone, his shoulders straightened and his expression attempting casual aloofness. She could see that this was not a general matter, it was only a display, but he was justified in his effort to keep the conversation private. Neither of them trusted their crew nearly as much as they did the other. She leaned to her first mate, understanding his continuing clandestinely soft words. "Arabella," He called her by her first name, gently. She winced a little at her first name. It had been a while since anyone had called her that. It reminded her of a different time. When her mother was alive, namely, when she was naïve, young, and stupid. But Mr. Reece was excused; of course, he had every right to call her this. He had been there through it all. "How is he?"

Arabella Smith adjusted her neck uncomfortably. Her heart swelled and she held back a smile. "He's hiding something, Reece," she allowed herself.

The loyal man's lips turned up into a smile. "But, what else had you expected?" His memories of the anomalous Sparrow had been briefer and less comprehensive than his Captain's, but it was common knowledge that the Captain of the great Black Pearl was not an open book, to say the least.

Captain Smith resisted the good humor of her partner to say, "Should I leave at any time, you are the one and only captain of this vessel, you realize?" She finished tentatively, reassuring more herself than Reece, the preserved part of her mother was safe when she was gone into the lair of the mysterious woman, and wherever else Jack Sparrow lead her.

"Don't worry, Captain. She's safe with me," Reece comforted. He knew how much Arabella missed her mother. Laura had been lost in a brush up with the East India Trading Company. She still blamed herself for the death of her mother, though it was true, that she probably wouldn't have been able to save her even if she had reached the gallows in time. All that would have been achieved was the entire Smith family simultaneously being disposed of. Still, such logical reasoning could not sway young Arabella, the heart was never a logical organ, it seemed. To have lost someone for a second, permanent time, to have all hope stripped from your soul as you looked into the cold, empty eyes of your departed loved one, brought an irrevocable change to the newly born Captain Smith. Arabella had died that day, in that fatal square. Her reincarnation seldom displayed the old love, closeness, and sociability that the girl, Arabella, who died in the square, had. This Smith was a ghost.

The Captain's quiet brown eyes whispered gratitude. "Good," she managed out her threateningly tight throat. She turned to look out to sea, fighting her remaining humanity. Her eyes lingered on the Pearl, a beacon before them.

Mr. Reece looked where her gaze had fallen, following the look in her eyes to reach his conclusion. "He's bringing her back," he correctly assumed.

She didn't turn back to her first mate to answer him. The soft scars of respect and sacrifice on his skin and knowingly careful blue eyes would push her further than she was willing to go. "Maybe," she breathed, simply. "Maybe."

--

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! I had a fantastic time with my cousin though... haha, we spend many sleepless nights drawing up a 20+ page Pirates of the Caribbean High School yearbook... You know, senior profiles, Beckett's valedictorian speech, Signatures and Messages from everyone, trying to figure out the ridiculously complicated web of dating going on... You know it was brilliantly fun, (and funny), but now that I'm back, I have to get down to work! Here's the low down on the trip to Tia Dalma's. Bell went back to the Fleur, she is Captain, after all. Nothing of note happens on the Pearl, as it happens, otherwise, I assume, they'd've included it in the movie! Haha, next chapter I'll include the fun to occur in the creepy little bayou shack, but until then, you realize that Captain Laura has perished(!) most likely by the efforts of Lord Cutler Beckett, many years before, when little Arabella was probably about Will's age. She had tried to save her mother, desperately, but she was too late, and was met only with the glaring emptiness of her mother's staring corpse. (Sorry, I'm being a little morbid. Kelly Clarkson's My December, it's all your fault!!! It is effective though...) So Bell's been very deeply scarred, calling herself Captain Smith ever since. She's only had Reece as a tether to her other life, one with her mother. She's been coping... but Jack's been bringing something back inside her she's not sure she wants to face... Gah, I'm enjoying this story. :D

Disclaimers: I don't own Bell, Reece, Laura, Jack, Will, The Black Pearl, The Fleur de la Morte, or really, anything in particular, besides maybe this story? Haha. Don't sue!

Please review, tell me how this chapter was?  
-Piratess-Bell


	11. Questions

Chapter Eleven

Questions

The chosen few sailors of the Pearl boarded the two little boats, Captain Smith invited herself, but settled in with Will's boat, Gibbs, Pintel and Ragetti, and Marty, rather than facing Captain Sparrow without a moment to adjust. Also, she was planning on taking advantage of Will's limited knowledge of her and her past, but still trusting nature, to figure out what was it was that Jack needed from the notorious soothsayer that would go to such measures to conceal herself.

As it seemed, Captain Smith wasn't the only ones who was pestered by unanswered queries whilst on the jaunt to the mysterious woman's lair. Will was quick to question Mr. Gibbs after they were under way. "Why is Jack afraid of the open ocean?" He let the question hang in the thick, muggy air, no deception in his tone, rather blatant and crude phrasing, with an obvious curiosity in his eye, but a thin mask of apathy, enough to fool the slightly dimwitted boat mates, Pintel and Ragetti.

"Well," Gibbs began, torn one way by his clear desire to tell of the tales, but another for his prediction of the affect on the passengers, emotionally for the slower members of the tiny dingy's scant crew, and strategically for the more adept and skilled possible opponents and their use of the information as some sort of leverage against his Captain. The story subsequently fell from his lips, as he decided to base enough trust in the group that sharing the secret would not cause any change in what would have eventually occurred. "If you believe such things," he excused the superstitious tilt. "There's a beast that does the bidding of Davy Jones. A monstrous creature with giant tentacles that'll suction your face clean off." Gibbs gestured the face-stealing capability of the creature with a sharp, tight grasp on the air, causing the innocent-eyed Ragetti to squirm. "…And drag an entire ship down to the crushing darkness… The Kraken," Gibbs pronounced, compellingly, bright blue eyes sparkling with intensity.

Marty, Pintel and Ragetti shared grave glances. Will's eyes betrayed a calculating understanding. Captain Smith was undaunted by this. She had overheard the mention of Davy Jones, and if Jones was after you—and you were eluding him--the subsequent reaction on Jones' part was surely to release his villainous pet, the Kraken. This, Captain Smith despaired still did not answer her own question, why the shadowy gypsy was so vital.

Gibbs continued, "They say the stench of his breath is…" Gibbs stopped for a moment by a nasty chill from his spine at merely considering the horror of the terrible odor. "Imagine, the last thing you know on God's green earth is the roar of the Kraken and the reeking odor of a thousand rotting corpses," he described, grimly, his theatrical rendering of the legends inspiring even the dispassionate Captain Smith to shudder. A short silence ensued, leading Gibbs to return to his original worries of the consequences of his storytelling. He nervously repeated his original lessening statement, "If you believe such things."

William considered this a moment, then posed his second question, "And, the key will spare him that?" Will raised his eyebrows, skeptically.

"Well," Gibbs began again, his gravelly voice more conversational. "That's the very question Jack wants answered." Captain Smith understood here, leaving her to ponder the irony of all this time, all Jack wanted was another question answered, just as her and Will had. "Bad enough even to go visit… _her_." Gibbs finished mysteriously.

"_Her_?" Will asked, decidedly only asking questions on this short voyage, Captain Smith noticed, adding to her discovery of the ironic questioning that had recently been taking place.

Gibbs put an end to the conversation with the final syllable, "Aye," which didn't necessarily answer Will's question, but they were quickly advancing on the raised bayou shack of the very same individual whom was the topic of conversation, and given the ominous circumstances, Captain Smith did not argue with Gibbs on the decision to leave the tales of the enigmatic woman to another, not so threatening, situation. Gibbs' eyes darted noticeably; apparently, it wasn't exclusively the Fleur's captain who felt increasingly more watched as they neared the small, rundown structure.

--

Author's Note: Yayyy...! Another chapterrrr! I'm tired.... -falls asleep- Sorry if this has tons of errors... I'm exhausted... but I had to get this chapter done before I went to sleep! Sigh... even though it was meant to be this entire part and then the part where the actually SEE Miss Dalma, but whatever.. I got sort of carried away on the description. You realize, it took me three really, REALLY, long paragraphs to write Gibb's Kraken speech? My goodness... too tired for this... the orthodontist killed my jaw this morning too, it's really killing me... I really hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm halfway sure it was a pretty good one... too tired to go back and check though... see you all tomorrow... perhaps, I'll be... I don't know... conscious then?

Disclaimers: Ug. You all know I don't own anybody, anything, or any quotes, right? Right. No sueing. That wouldn't be nice.

Reviews, please, I need something nice to wake up to.  
-Piratess-Bell


	12. Vexed

Chapter Twelve

Vexed

The pair of boats drifted effortlessly to a stop at the creaky little dock that would mark the last leg of their journey. The Black Pearl's Captain was first on the dock, his dingy being first to arrive, and before even his boat was fixed to the wooden post, the Captain had stepped nonchalantly onto the dock, his effervescence gleaming through the daunting air of mystery emanating from the hut a few steps up. The fearless Sparrow confidently smiled at his crew. "No worries, mates," he encouraged, playfully, as if to downplay the tentative nervousness of the group. "Tia Dalma and I go way back. Thick as thieves. Nigh inseparable we are." A shade of doubt flickered over his otherwise unshakable features, a momentary frown overtaking the casual smile, as he admitted the cause for doubt, "Were… Have been… Be-fore…" Jack stumbled, eyes flickering with old, long forgotten memories, some causing a swift change of expression.

This uncertainty was caught by Gibbs, who was just stepping on the wooden slats of the dock. Gibbs smiled comfortingly and remarked, "I'll watch yer back." Captain Smith, who lifted herself of the boat then, smiled. She was glad to have Gibbs along, the kind man he was.

Captain Sparrow shook off his uncertainty to reply, "It's me front I'm worried about." Gibbs nodded, unsurprised by Jack's quick witted responses. Gibbs knew Jack could watch himself well enough, but it never hurt to mention that he was there if ever Jack needed him.

Gibbs turned to Will, who stood behind him on a line of the Pearl's crewmembers. "Mind the boat," Gibbs commanded, gruffly.

Will, struck by the command, and not desiring to spend the entire trip sitting in the dingy, passed on the command to the one standing behind him, who just so happened to be Ragetti. "Mind the boat," Will repeated the order, stepping quickly over to the ladder up to Tia Dalma's shack, securing his place in the visiting party.

Ragetti, confused as he turned to Captain Smith, started to pass on the order, "Mind the…" Ragetti started before looking at the female Captain's threatening expression, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to command her, thin fingers dancing suggestively over the handle of her cutlass. Ragetti, wide-eyed, turned away from the scary woman to his pal, Pintel, decidedly preferring to take the anger of his stubby friend than the volatile temper of the tall, auburn-haired Captain. "Mind the boat," Ragetti said, hurriedly to Pintel. Allowing the Captain to go up the ladder before him, out of fear more than politeness.

Pintel passed the order to Marty, with a clipped, "Mind the boat."

Marty, too, determined to go, harshly told Cotton's parrot the repeated command, "Mind the boat."

Cotton's parrot, obviously not to be left out, mimicked, "Mind the boat!" before following the rest of the crew up the ladder, leaving poor Cotton resigned to sit back down in the boat, defeated by chance.

On the small raised porch, Jack Sparrow crouched in front of Tia Dalma's door, seemingly to remain unseen through the dirty panes of glass as he quietly pushed open the door. Dark, calculating eyes turned up to greet him, the realization in her eyes spreading a grin across her face. "Jack Sparrow," she warmly recognized, her peculiar island accent thick.

Jack walked in self-assuredly, greeting her, cheerfully, "Tia Dalma." His steps lead him a bit too near a hanging glass jars of curiosities, Jack's eyes widening as he leaned back to avoid bumping into the potentially, and likely, gross or magical contents of the jar.

Tia Dalma sauntered over to the group, her long, ragged skirts in her hand. The group took the unusual woman in slowly: her dark, dirty dreadlocks, the irregular markings under her curious eyes, her thick lips, a chain and locket hanging from her neck and her dress, obviously once beautiful, but now so battered and soiled it was only hanging desperately onto the gypsy's thin frame. The woman was unmistakably gorgeous, but so far gone by hygiene and any flattering method of exemplifying her beauty, she took on the appearance of the very swamp she called her home: dirty, untamed, and overall, creepy.

"I always knew the wind was going to blow you back to me one day…" Tia cryptically coaxed. Jack smirked sociably; the time the two had spent together in the past had evidently struck a pleasant chord with the gypsy. The Captain of the Black Pearl was pleased by this, positive that the mysterious woman's good mood would only make it more likely he would get what he came here for. The Captain of the Fleur, however, was less satisfied. One incredulous eyebrow raised, Smith's arms were crossed tightly. Her urge to punch someone was growing unbearable when another visitor in the shack snagged Tia Dalma's glance. "And you've brought friends," she added, pleased. "Some, far overdue." Her dark eyes fixed on Captain Smith. Captain Smith raised an eyebrow. "Captain Arabella Smith," she said, impressing the Captain with her name, but dragging the part of her still lurking in the shadows too far into the public eye than Smith was comfortable with. "It is good to finally meet you." Tia smiled.

"Charmed," Captain Smith said, in a tone that was the farthest thing from charming.

Tia paid the unpleasant Captain no mind, as the entering young man caught her eyes. "You," she whispered, reverently, her gaze fixed on William. She wandered, as if gravitationally pulled, to him. Jack looked quizzically at Tia's odd behavior. Her reverent, dreamy tone continued as she pronounced, "You have a touch of… destiny about you…" Will looked back at her, his expression serious and only half interested, but his eyes were betraying his confusion. "William Turner," she finished ominously.

Will narrowed his eyes, perturbed, by the inherent knowledge of his name. "You know me?" Will asked.

Jack was visibly shaken by this turn of events, but Tia Dalma was smiling invitingly. "You want to know me," she lured, leaning in to the young man's face, her earthy, unclean smell ungracefully preceding her. With this, Jack was by Will's side, interrupting, but Will was rather relieved he did.

"There'll be no knowing here." Jack scolded, boldly, though his eyes remained tentative. "We came here for help and we're not leaving without it." Jack grabbed Tia's shoulder, and lead her away from Will, in a lower voice adding, "I thought I knew you." Captain Smith's eyes narrowed, involuntarily. Sparrow always was a bit too friendly, she mused, soothing herself for the sake of those around her.

"Not so well as I'd hoped," Tia Dalma replied, casually. Smith was a bit more satisfied with the dirty gypsy's interest no longer resting on Captain Sparrow. "Come," she commanded.

"Come," Jack repeated, gesturing that Will should sit near Tia's mystic table, an hopefully optimistic grin painted on his face. Will sat, however confused he may be, he felt it best to follow orders.

Tia Dalma settled in, her grimy hand on Will's shoulder, "So," she said, suggestively running her unclean fingers on Will's chin and cheek. "…What service may I do you?" Her expression changed to mild irritation and she looked up at Jack, and reminded him, "You know I demand payment."

Jack smiled, for perhaps the first time, at this clichéd line of Tia Dalma's, for this time, he actually had something to give her. "I brought payment!" Jack announced, proudly. He whistled, and Pintel presented a cage with a tarp over it. Jack grabbed it and tore off the covering, for all to see the cursed 'Jack' the monkey, chattering nervously inside. "Look!" Jack said, his pistol in his other hand quickly, and what should've been shockingly, shot the creature, but when the puff of smoke dissipated, the monkey remained unharmed. "An undead monkey!" Jack described, adding, "Top that!" to ensure that Tia would accept the creature. Jack, of course Tia Dalma knew, would be very happy to be rid of the monkey, and it was no actual sacrifice on the Pearl's Captain's part. Jack placed the cage on Tia's table, where she unlatched the cage and allowed the small monkey out into the shack.

"No!" Mr. Gibbs whimpered, involuntarily, as he watched the monkey escape. "You've no idea how long it took us to catch that."

Tia Dalma ignored the old sailor and accepted the little beast with the words, "The payment is fair."

Will, still seated by the fortuneteller's table, spoke gradually. "We're looking for this," he announced, laying the cloth with the etching of the key on her wooden desk. Sudden coldness froze Tia Dalma's features, her eyes faraway, when she laid her dark eyes on the drawing. "And what it goes to," Will finished, still naïve as to the significance it had struck with the gypsy.

She tore her eyes from the cloth to question Jack, "The compass you barter from me, it cannot lead you to this?"

Jack was slow to respond, judging her eyes and expression, eyes then flickering to the drawing, merely allowing Tia a word. "Maybe," he said, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before asking, "Why?"

Tia leaned back, comfortably into her chair, smiling devilishly. "Ahh," she cooed, knowingly. "Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants!" She leaned her elbow on the table, hand gesturing by her face as she teased the Captain, blameless as a child. Jack paid her no mind, choosing not to reply. Will turned away for a moment, calculating this. _That_ was what the compass's purpose was. But, why did Beckett want it? Will wondered. "Or," she suggested, "do you know, but are loathe to claim it as your own?" the bewitchingly, playfully innocent grin of Tia's face melted as Jack blew a hanging feather out of his face, dismissively. She returned to Will's query. "You're key go to a chest. And it is what lay inside the chest that you seek. Don't it?" she asked Will; causing his head to lift out of the clouded thoughts he was working over.

"What is inside?" Gibbs asked, his blue eyes bright with the promise of adventure.

"Gold?" Pintel asked, hopefully. "Jewels?" he again tried. "Unclaimed properties of a valuable nature?" he suggested. A typical, provincial pirate, Smith thought, tiredly.

Ragetti's timid single eye moved, hesitantly from the hanging jar of eyeballs. Ragetti swallowed. "Nothing… bad, I hope," the boyishly nervous man pronounced, the opposite of his shorter, more typical friend.

"You know of… Davy Jones, yes?" Tia replied, significance threaded heavily in her words. The men nodded, preparing for a story. "A man of the sea," Tia gestured, smoothly, "A great sailor. Till he run afoul of that which vex all men."

"What vexes all men?" Will asked, warmly, a curious smile on his face. Tia picked up on his smile, a similar grin flashing on her own face. She fingered his hand affectionately.

"Hm," she warmly hummed. "What, indeed."

"Well, the sea," Gibbs sputtered, clearly at a loss.

"Sums," Pintel guessed.

"The dichotomy of good and evil," Ragetti suggested, harmlessly, evoking strange looks from the crew around him.

"A woman," Jack answered, peevishly, as if the answer was blatantly obvious. Captain Smith couldn't deny being tickled by this outburst, but she held back any smile that threatened her steadfastly aloof expression.

"A woman," Tia repeated, the words rolling off her tongue. "He fell in _love_." The last word was reverent.

"No, no, no, no," Gibbs interrupted, gesturing with his hand. "I heard it was the _sea_ he fell in love with."

Tia flicked her hand, dismissively. "Same story, different versions—and all are true," she pointed out, confusingly, and harshly. "It was a _woman_," she gestured loosely to herself, "as changing, harsh and untamable as the sea. Him never stop loving her. But the pain it cause him was too much to live with," she gestured softly to her heart. "—but not enough to cause him to die." She looked up at the group through her long eyelashes.

Will, tired of hyperbolized stories and outlandish riddles, exasperatedly asked, "What, exactly, did he put into the chest?"

She smiled, pleasantly and quietly said, "Him heart." Airily placing her hand on her own heart.

Ragetti, confused by this, asked, "Literally? Or, figuratively?"

Pintel scoffed and said, "He couldn't literally put his heart in a chest!" Then, pausing, as no one else agreed, added, doubtfully, "Could he?"

Tia's eyebrows were raised as she explained, "It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings, so," (her face and tone turned dark) "him _carve_ out him heart, lock it away in a chest, and hide the chest away from the world. The key, he keep with him at all times," she finished, warningly.

Will was silent for a moment, before rising, as if from a poker game, to face Captain Sparrow. "You knew this," he accused.

"I did not," he denied, before clarifying, "I didn't know where the key was. But, now we do! So all that's left is to climb aboard the Flying Dutchman, grab the key, you go back to Port Royal and save your bonny lass, eh?" Jack finished with a satisfying snap, he turned, ready to leave, as he had learned what he needed to know.

"Let me see your hand," Tia Dalma commanded, rising from her seat, her hand out.

Jack offered his right hand to her, lamely, but when her eyes narrowed with the knowing glance that told him to know better than to try to play her as a fool. His expression disclosed his objection, but he obeyed her command, and gave her the left, covered by a cloth wrapped around his palm. She unwrapped it, carefully, Will crowding in to see what it was Jack was hiding. Underneath the cloth, there was revealed a darkened welt that Captain Smith identified as the marker of Davy Jones, the ghoulish 'Black Spot.'

"The Black Spot!" Gibbs apparently also recognized it. His superstitious ritual that followed, a brush of his hands against his chest, and a quick spin around, finished by a spit on the ground. This ridiculous display was only more ridiculous when Pintel and Ragetti mimicked it.

Jack, piqued by this, pointed out, "My eyesight's good as ever, just so you know."

Tia disappeared into her back room, muttering incoherently and every so often knocking something down. Captain Smith gazed after her, much like the eyes of the trio of Gibbs, Pintel and Ragetti, but she did catch Jack's stealthily thieving fingers pocket the small ring laying on Tia Dalma's desk. She had noticed he took a few things while they were in Tia's shack. No wonder he was never sure how she would react to him. Tia soon returned carrying a large glass jar, full to the top, as it looked, with nothing more magical than sandy, regular, Caribbean dirt.

"Davy Jones cannot make port, cannot step on land but once every ten years. Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparrow, so you will carry land with you," she explained, seemingly with clear logic, holding the jar of dirt out for Jack to take.

Jack, confused, took it slowly. "Dirt." He said, simply. "This is a jar of dirt."

"Yes?" Tia Dalma said, wondering what was so strange, and inexplicable.

Jack's expression faltered for a moment. "Is the… jar of dirt going to help?" Jack asked, hesitantly.

"If you don't want it," Tia said, sharply, "Give it back."

"No," Jack said, protectively cradling the jar.

"Then it helps," Tia said, soothingly. Captain Smith wouldn't admit it, but Tia Dalma did have a strange and wonderful, logical way of handling these magical pirate problems.

Will here interjected, "It seems we have a need to find the Flying Dutchman."

Tia Dalma, smiling that 'Will' smile, sat back down at her table, taking her crab claws in her hands and, before casting them, chanted those mystic words, "A touch… of destiny."

--

Author's Note: Wow. This took a lot longer than I had anticipated. A lot more time... and frankly, a LOT more writing! Dang it, I really feel like a cheated poor Bell out of this one... she only got one tiny line in all this mess. Two thousand, almost THREE thousand words, and only _one_ line for my poor Arabella! I just couldn't find a good remark for her to interrupt the prewritten conversation. She does have several thoughts though. So, I guess it's not too bad. Just as a note, I had Tia recognize Arabella, because, if you remember, when Jack would go to see Tia in the books, she would always insist that he bring his crew, meaning Arabella, Fitzy, Jean, Tumen, Constance to go see her. Now, she met Fitzy, but she had yet to meet Bell. She has now, though. :D

Disclaimers: I don't own, well, almost all of that diologue, any of the characters, most of the actions, and, basically, anything that happened, not regarding Arabella, who doesn't belong to me either. So tragic, but still, I hope you enjoyed it. ;P

Please review, this took me soooo long. Sooooo much effort went into this. I need some sort of redemptive reward to keep me writing this laborious, time-consuming (nevermind, fun) story. Please?  
-Piratess-Bell


	13. A Game

Chapter Thirteen

A Game

The normally bright, clear Caribbean water was a dark, almost black, gray. The waves were merciless, assailing its victims, most recently, the Pearl, the Fleur, and the shipwrecked remains of the once proud Dutchman, with fatal force pounding the hull without hesitation. The Captain of the Fleur stood on the Pearl, leaving the trustworthy Mr. Reece to take care of her beloved prize.

Will leaned on the port rail, brown eyes intently examining the fallen Dutchman. "That's the Flying Dutchman?" Will asked the standby Jack, wondering how much of a threat the Captain of that unfortunate ship could possibly pose to the notorious Captain of the Pearl. Will shrugged. "She doesn't look like much."

In truth, Captain Smith herself found the ship's condition to be a surprise. The Flying Dutchman was one of the most powerful ships in the Caribbean, if not _the_ most powerful. A gale such as this could never take down a ship of that magnitude. Captain Davy Jones was no fool; of this Smith was sure, and as skilled as he was cruel. He wouldn't have allowed such misfortune to befall him. This could not be the Flying Dutchman, she concluded. But, then, what of sending Will to it, under the impression it was? Smith decided she would find out.

"Neither do you," Jack piped up, wittily. "Do not underestimate her." The clever smirk on Jack's face answered Smith's question. Now, there was only one thing she could rightly do.

"I should want to accompany you," Captain Smith announced, with a calculating glance of the scene. Mr. Gibbs was confused, his bright blue eyes discouraged her, as if to say, 'Don't you realize…?' Jack's eyes betrayed all that he did not say. Smith's lips formed a naughty half-smile. This was exactly what she wanted.

"I could use some help," Will said thankfully, the silent exchanges going right above his head. "You're welcome to join me."

Smith measured Jack's expression from the corner of her eyes. "Well, if Captain Sparrow doesn't mind," she tortured. She knew Jack couldn't let on to Turner that he was setting him up, but that also meant he couldn't stop her from being set up as well. She enjoyed playing with him, seeing how far her would let her go. She also wanted to teach him a bit of a lesson. Will was a good man, a friend, and it was terrible of him to let Will walk into a trap that was set for him.

"Oh, no, by all means," Jack invited, callously, after a moment. His mask didn't hide that he knew exactly what her plan was. He decided to beat her at her own game.

Captain Smith was nowhere near out of tricks. "I may never see you again…" she slowly lulled, now facing Sparrow with terrible fake innocence dripping from her raindrop veiled eyelashes and charmingly melodic tone.

Of course she was going to make this difficult, Jack thought, exasperated. "That's true, and quite a tragedy on your part, I'm sure." Jack said, dismissively, beginning to turn away, quitting while he was ahead.

She unexpectedly had a hold his arm, firmly, but still with a careful kindness in her touch. Her eyes were intense and sad, and completely serious. "I'll just go on missing ye, Captain." She whispered, tenderly. Her eyes glittered as she turned away, swiftly, walking down the steps to the longboat.

Will looked back at Jack quizzically, ever more curious who the mysterious, and Will assumed, mad, woman he had brought into their affairs. Jack gave Will no answers, raising his eyebrows. Jack staggered to say, "So… ah, what's your plan, then?"

Will, working to free himself from the confused-and slightly shocked-expression ailing him, said "Um, we'll row over, and search for your key."

"And, if there are crewmen?" Jack asked, avoiding quizzing looks from Mister Gibbs.

"I'll cut down anyone in my path," Will suggested, with a distracted look down at Smith in the longboat.

"I like it," Jack said, casually. "It's simple, and easy to remember. Good luck with that, William." Will began working his way down the steps. "Oy!" Jack went to the rail, calling down to Will, as if he had remembered something. "If you two do happen to get yerselves captured, just tell ole fishface Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt. Just might save your lives!"

Will, only half-minding Sparrow, sat in the long boat, and avoided looking at the Captain's smug, self-satisfied grin, or her strange, cold eyes. Smith held back the desire to tell Will of his cheated position, on the grounds that he would certainly eventually find out, and of course, it would make him angry. And one so young, passionate, and driven as Will would surely find it in him to return to the Pearl to demand Jack's explanation for his betrayal. Smith knew that would not help anyone.

Jones could not be that terrible, she reasoned. Perhaps Jack had sent Will for another reason than betrayal. His motives could be decent, Will was a brilliant swordsman, and perchance Jack had sent him because he knew no other could best the threatening Jones. She rather doubted it, but there was a chance it could be true. She glanced at the run down ship and knew that soon enough, they would find out.

--

Author's Note: A shorter chapter, yes, but hey, I quite enjoyed it. ;D Bell got to torture Jack a bit in this one. I just figured she should go with Willikins, he's kinda her little ally in all this mess. Even if he thinks she's kinda insane. Okay, well tell me how this chapter went. I really liked writing it, tell me how reading it is. :D

Disclaimers: I don't own Jack Sparrow. Or anyone else. Waah. Cry. Tragedy. Because, if I did... this chapter wouldn't've been necessary, as Jack and Bell would've been happily married by now. xD But, sadly, I don't. Oh well! Better luck next time.

Please review!  
-Piratess-Bell


	14. Purgatory

Chapter Fourteen

Purgatory

Davy Jones would be coming, Smith knew, otherwise, Jack wouldn't have told Will to offer himself to Jones when he was captured. The remaining, fearful bit of Arabella cringed as the horror stories catalogued in her retentive memory illustrated a monster like no other, a terrible, callous, tentacle-faced man whose mercilessness had claimed more men at sea than any force of nature could try to take. So, as she and Will searched the bait ship for Jones, the key, or any survivor, her eyes were shadily gauging the dark waves for the _real_ Dutchman.

She knew this place was only a purgatory. The step before the final judgment, in-between the life of the Pearl and the cursed death of the Dutchman. It was only a few steps before Will called out, "One alive, here, Captain!" Smith hurried over. The man was soaked to the bone, his eyes wild, as he was desperately, mechanically hauling a rope and mumbling. His hands were red and raw, Smith could tell from this, he had been doing nothing but this for quite some time. "Sailor! Sailor!" Will attempted again and again to get the man's attention.

"Not quite alive," Smith pointed out, grimly. Will looked at her, disappointed, and not quite understanding, as he went back to try again.

"Sailor! It's no use, you've run aground!" he explained. Captain Smith sat on a slimy barrel, her head leaning jadedly on her hand. Let Will try to save the clearly lost souls aboard, so that was Jack's plan, eh? Leave the boy here, a lure for Jones. Free himself by enslaving his friend. Humph. Jack had turned into quite the backstabbing pirate.

"No…" the man blubbered. "… Beneath us… foul breath." With this, he turned back to his rope.

Captain Smith looked up at Will gravely, sensing his realizing, the same calculation she had previously achieved. This was not the Dutchman, the Kraken wouldn't destroy its master's ship. "The Kra-" he started to pronounce, eyes widened in alarm, when he was interrupted by a loud splash.

Will ran over to the man that had fallen from the crow's nest; Smith herself, raising from the barrel to see who had fallen, and a little on edge realizing the proximity of the horrifying beast. Will turned over the man, and upon seeing his writhing, pulsing absence of a face, jumped back with a startled yelp. Arabella taking over, Smith placed a hand over her gasping mouth, only securing her assumptions that the Kraken—and the Dutchman—were near.

With loud crashing of dark waves, the marvelous ship of Davy Jones was revealed, as if dragged from the deep. The menacing teeth of a predator at its bow, the bedraggled, algae-covered sails, and the sickly greenish tint that made the ship look as if it was covered completely in left over, unwanted bits of the sea. The dark sea water spilled from it's holds as the great Dutchman bounced on the swells from it's own entrance.

Will stood boldly on the rail, holding on to the thick, slimy rope nearest to him. Captain Smith stood on the deck, eyebrows furrowing and lower lip caught in between her teeth nervously. Her mind raced through her knowledge of Jones and his terrible crewmen, the electrifying fear paralyzing her from reaching that last, bad thing she was warned they were capable of. It was something horrible, terrifying, and unbelievable at the time she learned it, but at a time such as this, she was prepared to believe many things she had previously been pointedly skeptical about.

The cracking of wood and the maniacal groans of cursed, half-men was enough to remind Captain Smith of the transmogrifying transporting powers of the Dutchman's crew, but as if that wasn't enough, she turned around to be faced with six or seven, it was too dark to tell, slimy, writhing figures coming at them with drawn swords. "Will!" she shouted, causing the boy to turn.

"Down on your marrow-bones and pray!" ordered the deep voice of a nearby opponent. Will jumped down off the rail, his sword preceding him to his target. Other fish men approached, moving on from the less _alive_ members of the small, destroyed ship to rival the more vital Captain Smith and Will. Both of their swords began clanging away at the fish-men, but they were clearly skilled, and fierce opponents. Even the expert swordsman Will was having difficulty.

Will spotted a barrel of oil, and dipped his sword in it, the slippery material coating the smooth metal of Will's sword. He proceeded to hit the burning oil lamp, the fire catching to the oil, and setting Will's sword blazing with orange fire. "Get back!" Will cried, backing up to the mast, and waving the fire sword in front of him, warding off the threatening crewmen that were surrounding him. "Back!" he shouted.

After a moment of shock, the fishy sailors moved towards Will, causing one of them to be slashed in the gut with his flaming blade, spilling fishy, slimy, disgusting guts all over the deck, the mumbling cries of the slashed fish man echoing loudly through the scene. Captain Smith cringed as Will was hit in the head with an opponent's sword, knocking him unconscious. The group of slimy men surrounded Captain Smith, her knees weakening when she looked at their repulsive forms. She felt as if it was almost better if she closed her eyes and swung at them. She made a few swoops at the fish men, having already resigned to herself it was a feeble effort, she was tired, weakened, and felt slightly nauseated by the smell of the fishy crewmen.

"C'mon, sweetheart," a crewman catcalled with a bellowing laugh. The others laughed with him, but Captain Smith fumed, and slashed the crewman in the face, drawing more fish blood onto the deck. The crewman moaned in agony and Captain Smith gave the surrounding crewmen a wicked grin.

"Anyone else?" she asked, provocatively while blinking deliberately. The writhing crewmen were neither amused nor charmed by the captain's sarcasm. The largest looked her in the eyes, hatred and enmity ruminating from the expansive abyss of his black eyes.

"Nay, methinks ye've 'ad quite enough," he growled, lunging, a terrible, sticky and sullied cutlass swiping her left arm, cutting, she hoped, not as deep as it felt. She cringed, baring her teeth and the strongly silent promise of revenge in her eyes. Taking advantage of her moment of surprise, the remaining crewmen closed in around her, interrupting her furious blows against the oversized, smelly swab that sliced her forearm.

Slowly, the valiant was overtaken, the swipes growing less clean, until she was exhausted and hauled away. Away to the real thing, the nightmarish, cursed vessel, the Flying Dutchman. Captain Smith was too tired to be terrified, so as she was brought over, she just closed her eyes and hoped that those who had knowingly sent Will here, knew enough of what they had done to know how to get them out as well as they had gotten them in.

--

Author's Note: It's been awhile, hasn't it? So sorry about that! I have a large summer assignment which I have yet to complete, and September is all too quickly approaching. I wrote the majority of this chapter over an extended period of time so it's probably very spotted and unfocused, but I figured I owe you something after such a long time. And why the heck am I talking like this? Who knows. It's kinda stuck. Next chapter we'll have with Captain Davy Jones! Muahah. I love Jones. This will certainly be fun. Although, I am finding it rather strange that Bell can consistantly seem to stick out in the fights longer than William, Mr. Sword Expert Extraordinaire. Grr, what having her as my narrative voice does to the continuity... Sigh. I hope to have written more soon, however no promises, as school is a bit more pressing than fanfiction! So sorry. D:

Disclaimers: I do not own some of the diologue, any of the characters or basically anything mentioned. Haha. It all belongs to Ted, Terry, Rob Kidd, and Disney. Whatever, I own it in my dreams. Huzzah!

-Piratess-Bell


	15. Do You Fear Death?

Chapter Fifteen

Do You Fear Death?

A gutsy, pretentious sort of courage is born in the human frailty of confidence and conceit. Such a courageousness was murmuring into the Captain's ear as she knelt on the Dutchman's death row. Something about the utter terror of the surroundings, the hopelessness of the circumstances, it was as if there was nothing left to do but, laugh, grin, and sneer right into the face of death. To go out with strength, perhaps, instead of whimpering with self-pity. The Captain wasn't going to sit back and cower. Some part of her, however foolishly, relished this chance to serve the devil himself some impudent sarcasm.

She looked down the line. There were four men, besides Will. The man after Will was dark-skinned and young looking, but, it seemed as though he was already gone. He looked ahead without any focus point in his eyes. He seemed completely unaware of his position, or the position of anyone around him. The next man had his hands clasped together desperately as he begged God for his life. It was a terrible thing to look upon, such desperation. Smith's attention was taken then by the next man on the line, a tall, white fellow, who granted the impression of a man resigned with death, but waiting for the proper moment to go. The last man on the line had bright blue eyes, lighter, red-blonde hair, and shook a bit with fear, but clutched a crucifix in his trembling hand. He had a determined look in his bright, shining eyes, and Smith identified this as a man who wouldn't so easily resign with the devil.

The company surrounding them, if a half-man, immortalized through torture, sea-claimed, lost souls could account for a proper company, seemed to be waiting for something, or, as it was revealed, someone. The empty sound of a meaningful step against the wooden deck that echoed dreadfully to the cabin below came to the Captain's ears. With each step of the mythical sea devil closer to her, the plucky courage was, for a moment, gone, to return a moment later, but not without spreading the dreading fear all over her expression. She looked down at the sodden deck, keeping her curious eyes averted from the notorious specter that was getting closer and closer.

A commanding once-man, with a head of a Hammerhead shark, turns to the Captain, with the report, "Six still alive, the rest have moved on." If the situation were not so stressing, the Captain would have mused about the sort of commands that had become customary aboard such a phantom vessel, as per the extraordinary element of the Dutchman's common work.

It was with heavy steps that the forthcoming inspector of hopeless souls had walked past the first three on the doomed line, to come to a stop at the most desperate man, a grand crab claw of an appendage closing in decision. After a click, the phantom tormenter was upon the man, in a swift and soundless motion. The devil slid his pipe between his slimy lips, lighting it promptly and blowing the smoke into the shaking man's face. The man breathed, calming down a bit, with the spidery wisps of smoke floating around his face.

"Do you fear death?" Jones asked, slowly, blowing out the match with one of his tentacles. "Do you fear that… dark abyss?" The question came out in a hiss. The sailor nodded his head forcefully, while closing his eyes in a crippling fear. "All your deeds laid bare," he continued, spinning a web with crushing words, "all your sins punished." Jones stopped and let the severity and gravity of the sailor's circumstances truly sink in, before offering up the light at the end of the tunnel… "I can offer you… an escape."

The sailor's eyes were wide open with this. Shining with the possibility of liberation from his dreadful problems. But, an unexpected voice rang out: "Don't listen to him!" It was the one she could tell wouldn't easily give in. His cross gripped tighter in his hand as Davy Jones turned to him, narrowed his cruel eyes, and took the man's neck in his giant claw.

Jones examined the man for a moment, he was badly wounded, blood still fresh on his forehead, and fear, yes, a dreadful fear, still in his blue eyes. Jones posed his question again, "Do you not fear death?" he dared, placing his pipe back over his lip.

The sailor took a moment before answering, in a trembling voice, "I'll take my chances, sir." Smith looked at the man, sadly. An act like that took such valiance, bravery, and heroism, that it almost evoked tears. He knew he would die, and he was strong enough to stay strong even with the devil at his throat.

Davy Jones released this indignant man, and ordered, "To the depths." Smith turned away out of respect, as the crewmen followed their Captain's orders, the only sounds to be heard were the slash of a dagger, the cracking of a doomed man's spine and a splash into the unforgiving sea.

"Cruel blighter!" the resigned man cried, tears falling from his eyes, probably a good friend of the heroic sacrifice.

Jones simply turned to this once-strong, now grieving man, and stated, coldly, "Life is cruel. Why should the after-life be any different?" The man glared in response, mourning his friend, but devoid of a response to the frigid delivery and impeccable logic of Jones' dry retort. Jones turned back to the fearful man, and attempted to pick up where he had been interrupted. "I offer you a choice…"

"Not much of a choice," Smith muttered. "An ultimatum, one way or death."

"You have a quarrel with me?" Jones asked, looking on Smith with unforgiving, bottomless dark eyes.

"Well, aside from yer crewmen taking us here, and forcing us to serve you or die, I suppose not." She didn't quite know where she was going with this argument, but she didn't want to go down easy.

Jones fumed a moment, before gaining his composure. "Ye'll be dealt with in a moment." He turned back to that one poor soul who would, surely enough, soon be part of this terrible ship's crew. "I say again, I offer you a choice… Join my crew, and postpone the judgment. One hundred years before the mast… will ye serve?" Davy Jones finished with relish, the honest smile on his face and inspired performance of trustworthiness in his eyes. Davy Jones, Smith decided, was no more than a spider luring another into his web.

The sailor stuttered a moment, but it was clear what his decision would be. "I will serve," he said, clearly.

"Better!" Jones smiled, a sickening thing to behold, the joy of taking another soul into your clutches. Smith realized, now, there was nothing stopping him from coming back to her. "Ye, ye two," He addressed Smith and Will. "Ye're neither dead nor dying. What is your purpose here, besides interrupting the employment of these suffering men?"

"Oh, 'employment,' is that what ye call it?" Smith commented, ruefully. "If that makes ye sleep better at night…" she muttered.

Jones opened his mouth to say something, but it was Will who spoke next. "Jack Sparrow. He sent us to settle his debt," Will said, bracing himself for Jones' response. Smith elbowed him in the ribs, wishing he hadn't admitted that. Aside from the fact that Jones already didn't like them very much, and that Will was just asking to be a sacrifice, Jack didn't have good luck with these harsh, legendary figures, which here meant, that Jack didn't make many friends, and Jones would have been merciless enough without announcing their affiliation with Jack.

Sure enough, Jones' expression was one of disbelief and anger. Wide-eyed, he asked again, "What is your purpose here?" in his odd accent.

Will looked at Smith, a question on his face, but, not receiving an answer but Smith's annoyed sigh, he went on to repeat his prior answer. "Jack Sparrow sent us to settle his debt."

Jones laughed at the sheer naivety Will was displaying in unknowingly offering them up as a debt payment. "Did 'e now?" he commented, rhetorically, nodding his head. His head turned from Will to Smith in a quick survey of what Jack was willing to give to save himself. A young, naïve boy, and a smug, self-important woman who didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Davy Jones turned back to look Will dead in the eyes. "I'm sorely tempted to accept that offa'."

--

Author's Note: Woo! Chapter done! Now, I must go, and read the remaining 160+ pages of Moby Dick before school starts! Woo...

Oh, yeah! And before I forget! EVERYBODY! GO READ PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: WATER OF LIFE NOW! :D Why? Because, its magical and sparkly, and written by nineteennintytwo! Now go! Follow this link, just take out the spaces... http:// .net /s/5274660/1/ Pirates_Of_The_Caribbean _Water_Of_Life. Do it now!

Disclaimers: I don't own... like everything. Don't rub it in. D':

-Piratess-Bell


	16. Mr Turner

Chapter Sixteen

Mr. Turner

The Dutchman was not like most legends. This was true for a number of reasons, but especially for Captain Smith, as she realized through the torturous toil of serving aboard her was, unlike most legends, which were shown to be hyperbolized by superstition and word-of-mouth in the face of the harsh reality, the reality was truly worse than the superstitious sailor's greatest imaginations.

The crew, now, grimly, including Will and herself, pulled on the array of thick ropes to lift up the cannon to the main deck from the lower holds. The Bo'sun gave orders, as the Captain was in his quarters, but reminding them of his omniscient presence with the loud, but hollow, haunting tune flowing from the great coral organ that he played. The crew provided the chorus for Jones' melancholy melody, chanting together their order, to "heave" on cue of their movements.

The Bo'sun called out the orders and looked down to the hold, where Will and Captain Smith labored among the sea of barnacled men. "Secure the mast tackle, Mr. Turner!" he yelled down, Will looked up, and, following orders made his way up the stairs to the main deck to secure the tackle. What surprised Captain Smith was that another man was making his way to the same tackle. 'Another Mr. Turner?' She asked herself. 'It couldn't be…'

"Step aside!" Will demanded when the second man also tried to secure the line. Captain Smith arched her neck to try to see what was happening.

The man replied gruffly, "Hey, mind yourself!" He was determined not to give in to this young boy's foolish demands.

"Hey!" Will protested again, not surrendering his duty to this slimy Dutchman crewman.

"Let go, boy!" The man exasperatedly yelled. The man looked Will dead in the eyes. After a moment, a horrific recognition shone in his eyes. Will didn't understand this. He didn't know this man. Who was he to recognize him? "No…" the man breathed, letting go of the rope. Unsuspecting Will was pulled by his rope across the main deck, and the reverence of the strange crewman's face was disturbed by the crash of the cannon to the deck.

The furious Bo'sun looked at the men and realizing the fault rested upon Will's assigned duty in the operation of raising the cannon, he quickly followed the next step in the protocol for the situation. "Haul that weevil to his feet!" he commanded, two crewmen doing as asked, and pulling Will back over to the side of the ship, the curious man who caused all this standing beside him. Captain Smith left her station and climbed up the steps, she couldn't handle standing down there, not knowing what was going on when, if she guessed right, her only ally was going to be whipped for nothing more evil than being caught unawares by the crewman. "Five lashes will remind you to stay on 'er!" the Bo'sun announced, raising his arm and preparing to swing the dreaded cat o' nine tails.

"No!" the man stepped in front of the Bo'sun, and held his arm from swinging the deadly weapon.

"Impeding me in my duties?" the Bo'sun hissed. Captain Smith stood on the main deck, biting her lower lip nervously and hoping the man wasn't who she suspected. "You'll share the punishment," the Bo'sun remarked.

"I'll take it all." The crewman bravely stated. His voice cut the hidden Arabella like a knife. Her guess had been correct. A coldness passed through her body, making her shiver. This man, this crazed crewmember, was the man she swore she was going to marry. The man she had fallen in love with all those years back. The man had broken her heart. Bill Turner.

She hardly had a moment to take this in before the music stopped, and Davy Jones appeared on the main deck. "Will you now?" he asked, stepping towards them. "And what would prompt such an act of charity?" Jones faced Bill's determined glare with his own harsh, penetrating gaze.

"My son," Bill stated strongly. Jones tilted his head in confusion. Bill repeated his statement with a softer tone. "That's my son." Bill turned back to his son, and Will looked up with disbelief at his father. A blank, confused, and slightly angered Captain Smith surveyed the situation with a growing frown upon her face.

The situation may have evoked a range of reactions from all those involved, but for Davy Jones, the situation was worthy of only a laugh. A smile spread across the Devil's face, and he sarcastically commented, "What fortuitous circumstance be this!" A peal of thunder crashed as Jones continued, cruelly, "Five lashes be owed, I believe it is." Jones took the cat o' nine tails from the Bo'sun, and held it out, an offering, for Bill to take.

"No…" Bill sighed, horror spreading his face with a deep sadness feeding his terrified expression. "No, I won't!" he firmly announced.

"The cat's out of the bag, Mr. Turner!" A cruel double meaning echoed in Jones' expression. "Your issue will feel its sting, be it by the Bo'sun's hand… or your own." Jones offered his torturous ultimatum to Bill, whose expression became hopeless. Will looked up nervously.

Bill considered it grimly, mumbling "No…" as his only response. Jones looked back at Bill slyly, waiting for him to give in.

After his testing moment, Jones called out, "Bo'sun!"

"NO!" Bill cried, taking the offered whip. Bill stood paralyzed for a moment, and turned to his son. His first greeting to his long lost son would be the crack of the whip on his young, unscarred skin. He had to do it. Bootstrap Bill pulled back the cat o' nine tails, and swung it forth, cutting deep, bloody wounds into Will's flesh. As Bill pulled back for the second lash, a tear rushed down his cheek. Forward it swung, again and again, Will's muffled cries of pain and Bill's terrible tortured expression, it was hard to say who was in more pain. The heartless Davy Jones watched over this frightful scene he had created, and cringed, his beard of tentacles writhing with every gasp of pain Will took. Captain Smith frowned, lowering her eyebrows in anger at Davy Jones. How cruel could he be to force this type of suffering upon his own crew? After what felt like eternity, Bill gave back the torturous cat and Will was thrown down to the holds, his shirt torn and his fresh wounds bleeding. Captain Smith went to help Will up, but was met by the prodigal father, Bill himself, also trying to help his son.

"William…" Bill began apologetically.

"I don't need your help!" Will yelled in response, angry and obviously not wanting to see his father.

Captain Smith, though not really keen on joining the same side as Bill, found she had to argue with Will. "Will, listen. It may seem that your father was cruel and heartless for his actions, but that's truly not the case."

"The Bo'sun prides himself on cleaving flesh from bone." Bill said, grimly, not really taking Smith into account, she realized, holding back an eye roll.

Will was still heated, hauling the lines, and probably wishing they would leave him alone. "So I am to understand that what you did was an act of compassion!" Will yelled, sarcastically, failing to see how, ironically, it was just that.

"Yes," said Bill, flatly. Sadness tugged on Smith's heart as she looked from the realization of Will's face to the sad, but empty determination of Bill's brow. It has been a long time, Smith thought. I see time and circumstance has molded us both.

--

Author's Note: No, Bill hasn't yet been slapped. Although, I do feel a pretty cold fight coming on, soon enough. :) Don't worry, Bill haters, it's a-coming. :D This chapter isn't really that amazing, but at least I wrote something! And, GREAT NEWS! I watched Dead Man's Chest, this time concentrating a great deal on what I'm going to do with this story, and I wrote out a complete chapter-by-chapter plan of exactly what's going to happen, so now, you should have to wait less for me to decide little things like "fight now? fight later?" or "with elizabeth? with will?" and such petty things. And, I'm also having my Pirates-loving cousin check over all my ideas and improve them so I don't end up with something that's poorly thought out and problematic. Yay for second opinions! Although, this hasn't been proofread so it probably has errors, just forgive me and be happy I updated! The best is yet to come... I've got some amazing chapters coming that I can't wait to write so I've got some new motivation to write, so maybe more updates? Yay! Woooo. Huzzah!

Disclaimers: I don't own Bill, Will, Davy Jones, Arabella, or most of the lines! Disney and Rob Kidd do.

-Piratess-Bell


	17. Hidden

Chapter Seventeen

Hidden

The reunion of these three quite separate people was particularly strange. Particularly, because none of them ever thought they would see the other again. Captain Smith wasn't sure how to react. Sure, she was not exactly happy with Bill, but looking at his current state it would not make anything better to pick a fight. She did feel sympathy for her old love. Looking on his aged, soaked, barnacled body, a starfish covering half his face, it was impossible not to feel some form of pity. She knew this did not absolve him from anything he had done in the past, but it did go to show her this was a different man standing before her. A man who had been as broken as she was by their departure, a man who was widowed by his wife's death, tormented by the fate of his son, and murdered only for standing up for his old friend. Bill had certainly lived a difficult life. He didn't deserve this. Smith may have been unhappy with him in the past, but she still could clearly say, his punishment had quite overshot his crimes.

It was later that night, when they were off duty and were free to walk around the lower deck, undisturbed by the other crewmen. Will opened up with a confession. "For nearly a year," he began, looking at his father's hollow eyes. "I've been telling myself I killed you to save you."

Captain Smith knew about the curse on Barbossa's crew, the immortal torture of being a member of the living dead. She knew Bill was part of the crew at that time, and she had wondered what had happened to him, but she hadn't known about the attempted murder of the immortal Bill. Will was obviously needlessly apologizing, as Bill was clearly still alive… or as alive as a crewmember of the Flying Dutchman could be.

"You killed me?" Bill asked, only a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Will continued, "I lifted the curse you were under, knowing it would mean your death. I thought, at least you would no longer suffer the fate handed to you by Barbossa." The reasoning was sound, Smith knew, but she could still tell that this decision had been very hard for Will to deal with.

"Aye, I remember when the curse was lifted. I'd already sold my soul to the Dutchman so I knew even lifting the curse wouldn't save me," Bill stated, sadly. Will's eyes turned down in solemn understanding. He went on to explain, "That's the gift and lie given by Jones. You join the crew and think you've cheated the powers, but it's not reprieval you've found. It's oblivion…" Bill trailed off, as if considering whether or not to continue. "And to think," he said, coldly, "I did everything to find _her_." Bill arm went up in a weak gesture to indicate Captain Smith.

Captain Smith was surprised, and confused. "I beg your pardon?" she staggered to say.

Will, too, was taken aback by this. He asked, quizzically, "You left home to find _who_?" Will gave Smith a quick look, as if to say, 'you're the one who made my father leave my mother and I?' Captain Smith felt a surge of guilt for Will, but really had no idea Bill had left his wife and young child to go out to sea, let alone to find _her_.

Bill disregarded all of their questions, with his cold voice directed towards Will, he said, "Stay away from women, son. They can do you no good." Bill turned away from Captain Smith as if to say he had no interest in speaking to her.

Will's eyes just narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Will's mind flitted back to his fiancée, questioning her ability to do anything bad to him. He couldn't imagine Elizabeth betraying him, not as long as he loved her, and she loved him. He was happy on his cloud, Smith thought knowingly. All this talk of the possibility of love failing was not completely comprehensible for one so young and so in love.

Captain Smith's reply was little more than an exasperated sigh of the words, "_Oh, please_." They seemed to ask Bill if he was seriously trying to get her angry with him.

Bill turned to face her, a still-burning fire at his core. "You did leave me without even telling me why," he pointed out, obviously something that had been eating at him for quite some time.

Smith scoffed grudgingly. "Yeah, _boo-hoo_." She angrily countered. "Ye were just _so _torn up. The same time the next year, ye were married to another girl, with little Will Jr. on the way, while I was out watching my mother _die_. Yeah, ye're _really_ the one who has the right to feel bad for yerself." She harshly pointed out, even though she knew he had dealt with plenty more terrible things, and he had every right for self-pity. "I'm _so_ sorry, Bill," coldness and sarcasm ended her response.

"Now, Captain Smith…" Will began, a concerned, and slightly cross expression on his face, proving his loyalty to his father with a, if not retaliatory, at least reprimanding response. However, Captain Smith could care less what Will had to say, and as it seemed, neither did Bootstrap Bill.

"Well, if you hadn't walked out on our marriages, I would've been married to you!" Bill cried, irately.

"Good thing I did," the Captain snipped, "or Will, here," (she gestured loosely to Will) "wouldn't be around to save his wayward father from his own bad decisions!"

Will again tried to cut in. "What decisions?" he asked, louder now, trying to be heard by the fighting ex-pair.

"It may have been _my_ bad idea to come to sea," Bill began, relenting. "_Especially_ to come to sea looking for _you,_" he added, coarsely. "But, the whole reason I'm in this whole mess is because of your _precious_ Captain Jack Sparrow." Bill finished with heat.

"What?!" Will gasped, exasperatedly.

Captain Smith was, too, taken aback by Bill's angry reply. "_What_ are you trying to say, Bill?" she asked, one eyebrow raised daringly.

"I'm here for one reason only… because I tried to stand up for your darling Jack," Bill said, spitting Jack's name.

Captain Smith was furious with Bill, the only word she forced out her throat was, "YOU-" before he spoke again.

"Answer me this, Arabella!" Bill demanded. "You left me at the altar all those times. Was it really worth it? Were you really in love with him?"

The question paralyzed the quiet Arabella. She was silent for a moment, and she let out an irate and contemplative breath. "He was Captain Jack Sparrow." She said, simply. "_Everyone _was in love with him." She waved her hand dismissively and turned away from Bill.

"But were _you_ in love with him?" Bill asked, his eyebrows lowered accusingly.

Captain Smith set her jaw and let out a firm "_No_."

Bill's eyebrows raised for a moment, then lowered back to their frustrated, accusing position, his eyes never losing that unforgiving stare. "Well then," he said, coolly. "I guess you broke my heart for no reason."

Captain Smith didn't reply, instead it was Will who next spoke. "Could someone please explain this to me?" he asked, confused and awfully tired sounding.

Bill let out a deep sigh and responded to his son. Captain Smith still wouldn't look at Bill, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Nevermind, son," he said. Bill thought for a moment before returning to his original conversation, of the Dutchman and her troublesome effects on the souls lost to her. "One hundred years before the mast," Bill said, tiredly. "Losing your world, bit by bit." Bill paused, glancing back at Arabella from the corner of his eye. He looked down and took a deep breath. "Till you end up… end up like poor Wyvern here." Bill was tempted to mention something about his closeness to that fate, and how he obviously shouldn't mind ending up like that. It wasn't like he had much left to live for. But, he looked back at Will, knowing he couldn't leave his only son with that sort of last memory of him. "Once you've sworn an oath to the Dutchman, there's no leaving it. Not until your debt is paid." Bill finished gravely.

"I've sworn no oath, neither I nor Captain Smith," Will said, truthfully.

Bill's eyes smoldered. "Then you must get away," he whispered.

"Not until I find this…" Will said, pulling out the canvas etching of the key Jack had given him. "The key." Will announced, without realizing, summoning the body of old Wyvern into animation, he leaned away from the wall, leaving his brain behind in the wall.

"The Dead Man's Chest!" Wyvern exclaimed hoarsely, inspiring scores of legends to flood Smith's mind.

She considered this a moment, before murmuring, "The… heart of Davy Jones… of course…"

"What do you know of this?" Will asked Wyvern.

"Open the chest with the key," instructed Wyvern, "and stab that heart." Then, seemingly changing his mind, he corrected, "No! Don't stab the heart. The Dutchman needs a living heart, or there'll be no Captain. And if there's no Captain, there's no one to have the key…" he trailed off.

"So," Will reasoned, "The Captain has the key?" When Wyvern didn't reply, Will rephrased. "Where is the key?"

"Hidden," Wyvern whispered.

"Where is the chest?" Will tried again, unsatisfied with the old gargoyle's reply.

"Hidden!" Wyvern said, before snapping back into the hull.

Well, a voice inside Smith came to mind, if you can drag the hidden emotions out of Bill Turner, finding the Dead Man's Chest shouldn't be too difficult.

--

Author's Note: Huzzah! Another update! Yes, Bill and Arabella fight, as all of you have been waiting for! lol. No, nineteennintytwo, unfortunately, she doesn't slap him. Sorry! Haha. I liked the fight anyway, I hope you do too. Oh! That reminds me. The diologue doesn't belong to me. The part in the beginning, with Will apologizing for 'killing' Bill, I got from my novel version of the movie, that includes many fantastic lines that didn't make it into the movies! I just thought it was very fitting and rather interesting. Also, I can't claim ownership of this little snippet: "were you really in love with him?" "he was Superman (here Captain Jack Sparrow lol)! Everyone was in love with him!" "but were _you_ in love with him?" "...no." That bit's actually from Superman Returns, a movie I have never seen, but my cousin told me reminded her of this situation, and I just loved the line. So, here it is in Bill and Arabella's fight! Yay! Haha. Anyway, this was a fun chapter. Bill-Bell conflict is always enjoyable. -grabs popcorn- :D

Disclaimers: I don't own much of the diologue, Bill Turner, Arabella Smith, Will Turner, Wyvern, the Dutchman... or like anything! Woo! Disney does. And, Rob Kidd. And, whoever owns Superman Returns. :D

-Piratess-Bell


	18. Liar

Chapter Eighteen

Liar

There is a mystique to the games of dice: the chance, the deception, the balance of winning or losing, and the uncontrollable. Maybe it reminds us of the forces of chance that work in and out of our favor on the loom of fate. Maybe it's that taste of danger, a little thrill in the lies. Whatever it was about the gamble of this game of Liar's Dice, it had made its way aboard the Flying Dutchman.

The die was cast, the players drew their dice closer with their cover, slipping them across the table, judging the others eyes, so their numbers would be safe from peeping eyes. "I wager… ten years," the First mate, Maccus, most predominately recognized for his similarity in appearance to a great Hammerhead shark, announced in his gravelly voice, with low soberness.

"I'll match ten years," the Pufferfish faced sailor countered with low heat.

The third sailor spoke last, "Agreed," his scratchy, but uncharacteristically charming, voice drawled. The men all looked down, checking their dice and beginning the game of chance.

"Four four's," The Pufferfish bet. The game went on with little surprise, but the intensities were mirrored in William's eyes like a glass vacuum, pulling at the possibilities, trial-and-error exploration flitting through his drowsy, lost subconscious. He was approached by his father while in this determined but isolated state.

"Wondering how it's played?" Bill assumed, his voice attuned to a casual, fatherly warmth, but when you were tortured so long, warmth attempted seems still bitterly cold to the mortal.

Will clarified, "I understand." Bill shied with the implication that his previous statement had shown his bracing lack of knowledge of his son, but Will continued to speak. "It's a game of deception, but your bet includes all the dice, not just your own," he explained, logically, accurately, and intuitively. Smith, who stood nearby, had hardly expected this to come so easily to Will, who she could see more simply as a young boy who went along with most everything without so much as an assessment, not one to think before acting. She was quick to rethink this, however, she knew people were never two-dimensional. Will ended his statement with a short question. "What are they wagering?" he plainly asked his father.

Bill was beginning to accept the repercussions of his absence in his son's life when he stopped to answer, "Oh, the only thing we have…" he put, only hinting of the dull pain this caused all on board to contemplate. "Years of service," he elucidated.

"So…" Will thought, the gears once again spinning. "Any crewmember can be challenged?" He suggested. This caught on Smith's ear, like a curse or a mention of a memory. It was, for a moment, completely clear. A thin curve replaced her lips as she hid her premonition of the possibilities stemming from Will's brilliance.

Bill dully answered, "Aye, anyone." Clearly not understanding what had become clear to Smith, but curious nonetheless of Will's interest in the game.

A tense moment passed, as William's eyes flicked around judging whether this was the correct time and place, and, satisfied, opened his mouth. "I challenge Davy Jones."

A shiver passed through every soul around, as if their temperature had suddenly dropped. Bill looked at his son with shock and fear. The men looked up at the foolish boy with awe, as the melancholy, tortured melody of the grand master's organ came to an abrupt halt. The silence only made the lack of the reassurance of the song more significant, aiding in the foreboding, inevitable nature of the footsteps of the devil himself. A cruel humor drilled into those punished beyond their crimes caused a vile laughter to echo as a background for the terror that was approaching.

The cruel Captain came into view, standing tall, like a specter, he boomed, "I accept." Jones made his way over to the makeshift dice table, stepping slowly and with unbelievable dignity for one so terrible. Jones looked at Will with his calculating, corner-of-the-eye stare. "The stakes?" Jones slowly hissed.

"My soul." Will bluntly announced the high-stakes game. "An eternity of servitude."

"No!" Bill cried. He looked as if he was going to be torn apart. Smith knew she should illuminate the truth, but not only would that possibly ruin Will's gamble with the knowledge of Jones' omniscient nature, but she was also still angry with Bill and did not wish to spare him any pain he brought upon himself.

"Against?" Jones stated, his voice a barren field.

Smith could almost feel the wicked smile struggling to be held back on William's lips. She herself was having trouble of it… "I want this." Will said, laying down the oh-so-important canvas cloth. Jones extended his clawed appendage, and lifted the illustration to his eyes.

Furiously, he threw the cloth back to the table. He looked down in calculation and memory, and finally asked, with cool fire, "How do you know of the key?"

"That's not part of the game, is it?" Will said, undeniably cleverly, causing a second-long smile to break out over Smith's face. This boy was certainly a good choice, Jack. He may not 'look like much' but he was sharp, and he could handle himself. Will sat down, metaphorically securing his position in playing the game. "You can still walk away," he told Jones, in itself, a dangerous challenge for the devil, but, in a way, if Jones walked away then, he would have lost, then and there, all notoriety, all respect, and all the mystique of never losing, never running away. Davy Jones sat down in his seat, a finality secured as soundly as Will's. With this act of finality, Jones did what was so sought after… from around his neck came the harsh, scarred, cold, metal key to the heart of the King of the Sea. It dangled enchantingly from his slimy tentacle as Will and Smith were caught in a trance; even the crewmen were caught by the shock of the magical presence. Jones pulled his keepsake close to his heart again, and the game had begun.

Smith was so caught up in the tension of the casing of the dice, that she didn't notice a barnacled sailor work his way to the table, dice in his hand and determination in his eyes. The moment after Will and Jones firmly set their numbers, Bootstrap Bill Turner had made a foul mistake. "No!" a squeal erupted from an old and untouched piece of Arabella. The piece that had loved him, the piece that still cared. The tiny, miniscule part that didn't want to leave him to die.

"What's this?" Jones disapproved, with similar reaction to the fallen Smith.

Bootstrap sat down, finalizing himself, with the words: "I'm in." His next fatal words were, "matching his wager." A cold knife struck her heart as she watched the corners of her eyes turn black and fall away, as if there had never been any light at all. They had lost already. No matter what, there could be no surviving after this.

"No," Will cried. The severity in his eyes was focused and smooth. "Don't do this."

Bill was always a stubborn, witless one. "The die is cast." He noted. "I bid three twos. It's your bid, Captain."

"Four fours." Jones bet with a slippery tongue.

"Four fives." Will countered with adamancy.

"Six threes." Bootstrap suggested.

It was almost impossible to see what would happen next. That must be the allure. With the feverish panic and the desperately high stakes, Smith couldn't see the outcome if she tried, she only knew it was getting more and more tense all the time… the good bets were running out, like a fraying rope that held the dangling blade of the guillotine. Someone was going to be the loser. And, two out of three, it wasn't going to be good.

"Seven fives." Jones hissed. It was blatant that this was the last. And the whole atmosphere grew slower, significance lurking like shadows, coming closer like a defending dog, sneaking around like smoke, almost alive, around them. They knew they had lost. All that was left was to say who would be the one to go.

The son was up, leaving his disappointment in his eyes and away from his mouth, he said the only thing he could. "Eight fives."

Jones laughed, slowly, in humorless 'ha ha's. "Welcome to the crew, lad."

Before anything else could occur out of his control, the father took the bullet for his son. "Twelve fives." He said. "Twelve Fives. Call me a liar, or up the bet." Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Smith's breath caught in her throat.

"I'd be called a liar myself for my trouble," Jones exclaimed, grabbing the cover from Bill's dice, revealing his clear lie. "Bootstrap Bill! You're a liar, and you will spend an eternity on this ship!" This forced a steep, blunt pain into our heroes' hearts. Bill was condemned. "Master Turner," the devil spoke again, "Feel free to go ashore…" the crew held in a laugh. "The very next time we make port!" With another cackle Jones was gone, back to his melancholy chamber to make sounds of memory and losing. The men followed Jones, like a hand letting go and pulling away. Will waited, but approached his father with frustration.

Softly, Will sighed, "Fool! Why did you do that?" his eyes were mourning his loss, and Smith stepped out of the corner to stand behind the men, included, but also excluded, in the broken family's talk of confidence.

Bill's eyes were sad, bluer than they usually were, with a glassy antiquity that was reflective of what you were, displaying less and less, with each passing day, what he was. "I couldn't let you lose." Bill expressed without regret.

William was disappointed; his exasperation hinted in his somewhat gentle tone. "It was never about winning or losing."

Bill looked around, slightly, realizing. "The key?" William's face attested. "You just wanted to know where it was." A heartbeat in the night, the conversation was finished, and in their eyes, they held what must come soon.

--

Author's Note: It's been forever and a day, I know! Please don't eat my soul! Yeah, I finally updated something. Thank nineteennintytwo. ;) Gahhhhhhhhh I've got so much homework! I hope you guys are happy with this, I really need more timeeeeeeee!

-Piratess-Bell


	19. The Promise

Chapter Nineteen

The Promise

The musings of a drunken sailor hovering in the twilight before restfulness may be predictably selfish, but this may be the first of the metamorphoses undergone by the crewmen of the Flying Dutchman. As night hushed the arduous howls of strain that the same deck would have evoked in sunlight, the sleepy sailors unclenched their tightened muscles, and relaxed, thankful for the smallest of comforts. This particular night held no reassurance, but only more anxiety for the characteristically calm Bill Turner. For tonight was the night his son would enter the lair of the Devil, with the intentions of thievery.

How could one expect to steal from the Devil himself? Captain Smith pondered, outside the door to the Captain's cabin. The door was opened just enough to let Jones' soft snores slip suggestively down the corridor. Smith intended to guard the door for the sake of warning Will if a crewman were waiting to destroy any chance they had of escape, but the truth of the matter was, no one would be checking. No crewman on this ship, not even first mate, would dare wake the Captain while he slept. The truer of the motivations for guarding Will's escape alone was that the other option was waiting for Will with his father. She didn't hate him, she had finally consented, but she was not so well-pleased with him that she would choose to stand alone with him for all the time it took to secure the key that had remained unsecured for all the time since Davy Jones' heart was broken by the goddess Calypso, an era so long since past, that it's outdated even the first Court of the Brethren, perhaps even the first pirates and the Code.

It's difficult to imagine the pain of such a man as Davy Jones, Smith pondered meekly, as if the thought of such a burden belittled her life's petty problems. It could be hardly understood what forces of bitterness could cause man to become devil, lover to become jailor. Yes, Jones was an enigma of mythical proportions, whose story, traumatic and tragic, would be soon to endure a new and pivotal chapter, as the passions lulled into security and comfort would be pulled out from their stealthy hiding places into the stunning Caribbean sun… all this because of a deal with Jack Sparrow.

A deep note emanated from the organ suddenly, raising goose bumps on Smith's flesh. But as she leaned her ear against the door, the comforting continued snores of Davy Jones intermingled with a curious new sound, as if from a music box, a little tune plinked metallically, hollowly into the large cabin. It's sparse melody made the heart pound in rhythm, attempting to understand the root of its conveyed despair. The music lulled and the air relaxed… none to soon, Will appeared at the doorway, key in hand.

"I put the drawing of the key in the key's place," Will whispered as the two walked down the hall.

Considering the suspects of who would have taken the prized item would be easy enough after Will's expressed interest at the game of dice would be easy enough, but leaving a possession in the stolen item's place would be a clear sign that the guilt could belong to no other. "It certainly leaves your guilt undeniable, but I suppose Jones would be clever enough to convict you without such a clue."

"I figured as much," Will said, with a shift, continuing, "how do I proceed with the knowledge that my father is alive?"

Will would have a great choice ahead of him, Smith realized gravely, as his great loyalty to his father shone in his eyes. She did all she could to keep her own mother from her mind, as she mutterly lowly, "Everything in equal weight, you must decide who it is you cannot live without."

"What do you mean?" he asked, but his question was soon forgotten.

Bootstrap Bill addressed his son, "Here, take this too," as he handed a barnacled black and white knife to Will, with the advice "Now get yourself to land and stay there. It was always in my blood to die at sea, but it was not a fate I ever wanted for you."

With low fire, Will countered his father's passivity. "It's not a fate you had to choose for yourself either."

Bill remained accepting of his poor fortunes and softened to Smith's condescension, "I could say I did what I had to when I left you and your mother, but it would taste a lie to say it wasn't what I wanted. You owe me nothing Will. Now, go."

"They'll know you helped us," Will pleaded, wishing that the rules could change just once, and his father could remain by his side, rather than be lost again to the mysterious and unstable realm of the sea.

Laughter met Will's concern, and Bill shrugged. "What more can they do to me?"

What a broken man. "I take this with a promise" Will forcefully stated. "I'll find a way to sever Jones' hold on you and not rest until this blade pierces his heart. I will not abandon you. I promise." The way Will unwaveringly pledged himself was without any fear of failure, but of pure valiance, and love for his father. Oh, Smith hoped he could come through.

Will climbed into the longboat, and Smith followed slowly, looking for Bill's hurt or anger, but when she found none she sighed. "I'm sorry, Billy."

"There's nothing to forgive," he said with a smile. "Take care of him, Bella."

She bit her lip, and agreed, "I will." The ex-lover and son pushed off from the Dutchman to the open water before them. Overtaken by the fog and their thoughts, they drifted slowly from one danger to another, with worries only for the one they left behind…

* * *

Author's Note: I am terrible. Actually. I haven't updated this story in a year and a half. It was 2009 when this was updated. That makes me physically sick. There aren't words for how sorry I am to people who may actually have wanted to read this at some point! I'm sure it's sort of going to be a stretch of memory for those of you returning to read this. I wish it was actually kind of a good chapter! I'm sorry. There's a reason why I'd been putting this chapter off. For one reason, I don't like Bill very much. Another, I'm really sick of being on the Dutchman. It's so icky. Thank Heaven we're getting away now! I plan to have the Kraken's attack on the Edinburgh Trader up soon. As soon as I write it. May be today... tomorrow... next week... next decade? Who knows with me... Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

-Piratess-Bell


	20. The Attack

Chapter Twenty

The Attack

It remained a dangerous game, waiting upon every swell for the Dutchman to be upon them. Will and Captain Smith had been since recovered by the passing ship, the Edinburgh Trader, and thankful they were that this honest vessel did not expect any ill of them, that they could board without much more than a mildly suspicious "Strange thing to come upon a longboat so far out in open waters..." from the newly introduced Captain Bellamy. From his tone though one could immediately tell that he was a fine and fair sort of man with the right amount of sense and flexibility to remain a good officer in outlandish situations. Smith was busy admiring the lack of algae and barnacles callusing every surface on the ghost ship.

Will played the part of concerned escapee and advised forcefully of the Captain, "Just put as many leagues behind us as you can. As fast as you can."

Bellamy, honest and unsuspecting of such grave circumstances from longboat bound castaways, asked "And what are we running from?" The two fidgeted in silence before Will noticed…

"That dress" he said, half-mesmerized, "where did you get it?" He took the familiar fabric in his hands and pulled it to his face, as if the very smell of his betrothed could bring them closer.

"It was found aboard the ship" Bellamy replied. With a mite of condescension over his crew, he continued, "The crew thought it was a spirit bringing some omen of ill fate."

Will roped Bellamy into the fault with his quick response, "That's foolish."

"Ah, yes," the bald sailor behind the Captain conceded. "Exceedingly foolish."

The sailor with curls and a proud tricorn elaborated, "It brought good fortune. The spirit told us 'pull in at Tortuga,' and we made a nice bit of profit there." The fellow crewman exchanged a genial remembrance of that profitable day, as the gears turned in Will's mind.

"Tortuga?" Smith asked, surprised that such a respectable vessel would dare frequent such a notorious port.

"Off the books, of course," Bellamy clarified.

"I imagine some of your crew may have jumped ship there," Will calculated. But, Bellamy was confused.

"Why do you ask?"

Before Will could answer, a sailor came from abovedecks with a message. "Captain, a ship's been spotted," he said, fear in his voice.

"Colors?" Bellamy inquired.

"She isn't flying any." The man was veritably shaking.

"Pirates!" Bellamy assumed.

Smith turned to Will with the knowledge that Jones was upon them. The only words Will offered to the men of the Edinburgh were devoid of all hope. "Or worse."

Will and Captain Smith made their way to the crow's nest, hoping for a glimpse of the closeness of their demise. Unfortunately, they didn't need to be high up to see that the Dutchman was gaining, and fast. "I've doomed us all," Will admitted with guilt.

"Why," Smith replied darkly. "I suppose that dress was an omen of ill fate after all."

The sudden jolt of the ship's stop threw Will from his perch, and surprised all aboard. Smith took care in helping Will return to the mainyard boom. His fall did not lessen his guilt or his determination.

The men on the deck were running like chickens without their heads, without guidance or sense. The Captain attempted to give orders to free the rudder, but unfortunately, it was not a reef that they were caught on. The first inkling of the danger they were given was in the death of Captain Bellamy, as he was grabbed by the beast, and pulled out into the open water, screaming for his life, and was then mercilessly whipped under to his certain immediate death.

The crew, if not insane with panic before, grew evermore loud and uncontrolled. The tricorned sailor, no longer prim, ran about with Elizabeth's wedding dress, offering it whatever it wanted to appease its Kraken-calling master. But, the slimy tentacles of the Kraken slid their way up the sides of the ship it looked to devour, as tenderly as one would look up and down a deer in the sights of a crossbow. It was only by reminding Will of his fiancée that Smith could keep that noble boy from plunging into the action down below. It was devastating to watch, but more devastating to be thrown into it. The foremast was toppled by the Kraken's force, suddenly. Smith was fortunate enough to catch a hanging rope, but Will was caught sliding down the sail, when the thought entered his mind that his father's knife could slow him down enough to keep him from falling completely.

Both braced themselves against the remaining parts of the ship and witnessed the grueling end of the Edinburgh Trader. More and more casualties fell to the beast, and for Will it was, painfully, all taken on as his fault. Akin to everything associated with Davy Jones, the stories paid the horror no justice. And the sight of the Kraken attack was more horrific and precise than it is tasteful to think about. It was only with pure chance that the mainmast was toppled over the sea rather than into the broad, opened mouth of the Kraken. Smith and Will were thankful to be thrown into the clear, Caribbean waters, and with a glimpse of the massive body of the Kraken, the two swam upwards to the surface, and groped for driftwood, clinging for dear life.

One more myth true, thought Smith, as the crème colored wedding gown floated through the wreckage. Will's eyes never caught sight of this memento, as the Dutchman's shadow past over the survivors…

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I came through! This is great. We're getting dangerously close to the infamous three-way sword fight! (My favorite scene ever!) Meeting up with Lizzie, Jack and Norrington should be fun, rightttt? Hey, we'll see. Thanks for reading!

-Piratess-Bell


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